Broken Glass of Empires
by Troublesome Dragon
Summary: England wakes up to find himself an empire again after a drunken wish. With America on his side and Canada against him, he must find a way back to his own universe before he is stuck in this one forever which may not be so bad really.
1. Where the Sun Never Sets

Where the sun never sets

If England could name the single biggest complaint he had, he might be inclined to say his brothers, the economy, or even Francis ( not that the actual country interfered with his lands much anymore, but the man would still piss him off for old times sake.) Today, however, it was alcohol. England did not get pitifully drunk, not to the degree that America kept exaggerating. Once, it had been once, and it hadn't been the best week to begin with. The morning brought him the usual consequences: head ache, eighteen missed calls from the queen, and an over all sense of wanting to crawl into a hole and die. He had started the night in a nondescript flat in England and woke up in a lavish bedroom, a suspiciously french bedroom. Oh dear lord, what had he done? One of two things passed England's mind, the first being that Francis had gotten a hold of him in (cough) said alcoholic episode and had messed with him before dropping him off in one of his nicer hotels. He hoped the idiot hadn't managed to get him on tape this time. After a certain part of North America that will not be mentioned put a video of England talking to himself on public servers, everyone's bosses agreed that they couldn't have that sort of publicity on them, especially, when some of England's people had revealed pictures of him, old pictures, things taken before the stupid internet. With the nations having their own video service, everyone was guaranteed to see it (many subscribed to France's account Messing with England.)

The second thought that crossed his mind was that for once he had the sense to retire early and book a room at the nearest hotel that looked decent. Arthur sincerely hoped so. The door opened, and England ducked under the covers for good measure. However, he did not hear Francis's mocking tones as he expected. Instead, he heard heavy footsteps coming closer, possibly military, judging by the uniform movement and force. Oh, the queen hadn't gone to the trouble of sending someone after him did she? Reluctantly, he pulled the covers down to see . . . America? In a white military uniform, an odd surprise since he wasn't known to sport such things these days. (He'd been barred from openly participating some time ago. England believed Lincoln had set the precedent if he remembered correctly.) He lingered near the bed, neither laughing at him for his stupidity or urging him to rise and suck it up. No, America waited, lacking expression as he looked down at England. It unsettled him that America remained so still, analytical almost as he noted the unkempt man. Finally, he leaned over and shook England, startling the Brit in how pliable his body became, like a rag doll, under the grip. England knew America's strength but what worried him was how focused that strength was. It practically screamed of military conquest.

"Hey, Great Britain, you have things to do today," he urged, the tone formal and matter of fact: simply business. Why he heard such talk come from America, he had no idea. England blinked as he comprehended those words. Perhaps, he had entered some sick and twisted dream. (It wouldn't be the first time that nonsensical what ifs passed his thoughts, but it wasn't even close to America's birthday or many of the other things he'd like wished away: India's perpetual resistance, France's annoying existence, and of course Germany's persistent bombing of his homeland.) It also did not seem to be the work of a time machine or telephone box, judging from the over all normalcy of the place.

"What did you say America?" he asked for confirmation of such a tall claim. It wouldn't be the first time Alfred confused his name, but to add the word Great, he must have hit his head hard. America frowned, searching his eyes before simply sighing. He walked over to the dresser, picking out clothes of all things. Was he in his room? America put the clothes down beside England. He unfolded the shirt and unbuttoned it so the fabric hung loosely for use. England didn't know whether to attempt leaving in his boxers to avoid being so uncomfortably close while he dressed or simply divert his eyes, both of which still left him somewhat mortified in one way or another. America grabbed his hand, causing England to instantly recoil, but he could not break free of the hold.

"Funny, you normally throw me against the wall when you're this cranky, and yet you can't even break loose from my grip today. What have you been doing Britain?" This sounded a bit more like he would expect Alfred to act. He gave an obligatory scowl, appearances and all. Alfred immediately broke eye contact, seeming to drop the playful attitude instantly. England wasn't sure how to fix his sudden relapsed into silence. This did not remain Arthur's priority for long. Alfred proceeded to push Arthur's arm through the sleeve. He wouldn't have that.

"Alfred, stop that, I can dress myself," Arthur insisted which had Alfred pause, before fishing out some socks. The implications of it made England dizzy. Did he win some bet to have America so . . . so like this? England was about to freak out officially when Alfred spoke.

"You went out drinking with Russia again?" he asked, somewhat hushed and patient. The added softness of Alfred's voice surprised him, but none of this made much sense yet so he chose to tell him the truth.

"France," he corrected as Alfred walked over. A tinge of relief covered the boys features, he then attempted to wrestle England's other hand into the appropriate sleeve. England would have none of that, strange, plain strange, that America would even want to.

"What are you doing Alfred?"he snapped. America lowered his eyes and sighed again. Bloody hell? He was backing down.

"I'll get Canada," he decided, but England wouldn't have that either. What did Canada have anything to do with it?

"Don't you I'll get Canada me," he threatened, making Alfred stop and turn. Only, it wasn't to obey England's wishes.

"I think you mean: don't you threaten to bring Canada," Alfred said with a small smile. Arthur grumbled, finally understanding some of Alfred's irritation when Arthur corrected him.

"Look, I'm a little off my rocker now, but tell me what's bothering you boy," Alfred was never this quiet unless something troubled him. He rolled his eyes and let loose a small chuckle.

"Canada knows what to do when you're like this," Turning around once more, Alfred made his way to the door. Arthur did not want to be ignored, not when everything seemed so off. He didn't even recognize the flag on the wall across the room. A white rabbit, a lion, and a polar bear? He had an idea what this (let's call it a dream for now) was about.

"No, Alfred look at me. Tell me why you're so quiet?" he demanded which finally convinced America to give up on getting Canada (for whatever daft reason).

"I take it you would like some company. Very well, what do you want to talk about?" Alfred pulled up a chair to the foot of the bed, sitting obediently at his side. It wasn't a simple courtesy or even because he wanted to. He simply did it because Arthur asked and that bothered England even more.

"Well, I . . . You're up to something," England couldn't see any other reason for Alfred's strangeness. The boy had a signature mannerism, and this man before him appeared almost mechanical in his actions.

"No, I'm not," he shook his head for emphasis. The singular pitiful smile still there, growing a little wider as if wanting to break out.

"Why else would you pay any attention to me?" In this place, wherever he was, it was the wrong thing to say. Alfred raised an eyebrow at the remark. Arthur eyed him curiously. America shrugged, nonchalant but not overly relaxing his stance.

"You're my sovereign. Why wouldn't I? Would you prefer I join with Russia? Trust me the offer's still open," he laughed, but there was a hint of worry under it when England stayed quiet. For Arthur's part, he remained dumbfounded by the statement. He had assumed this to be a passing fancy before sunrise, but he never had dreams involving Russia or even dreams where he knew he was dreaming.

" I know you've talked of selling me to him before," America mumbled, and it was too much for Arthur. He began to nonsensically emit strange noises of protest which caused Alfred to shift away uncomfortably.

"What? I'm not . . ." he sputtered, frantically moving his hands around. He would never sell America. Wait. He didn't own America, but he hadn't wanted to sell him when he did.

"If you're that drunk, I'll wait for you downstairs," Alfred left, giving up on getting him ready. Now that he found himself alone, he tried to piece together what might be happening, assuming he wasn't dreaming. What was that thing Wales had given him for his birthday? Yes, a crystalline sphere, the wish orb, that quadrupled the potency of magic, by simply adding the words I wish. He had taken it from the attic sometime ago, that had to be it. He had muttered curses at America half-halfheartedly yesterday when he returned to his flat, and then, he ended up here. What had he said? Something, something America? Well, that was helpful. He tried again.

Something me America? Give me America. It wasn't a curse. Then how? Yes, Francis had been there. Arthur must have relapsed, thinking they were still fighting for the boy.

To find a way out of this place, he would have to find another stone or something similar since he'd accidentally used up his wish. Originally, Wales jokingly told him to use it next time he screwed up. Technically, he had fixed a mistake of his, squashing the rebellion had changed things considerably. He hesitated to find out how much. Today, he couldn't find himself happy to be the British Empire.

England dressed, noting that the fashions weren't all that different. Sporting a simple suit, he risked leaving the room. The throbbing hadn't stopped, and so, he was dismayed to hear obnoxious laughter downstairs. Damn, America had been playing a prank on him. No one else could mimic that loud hearty laugh. Stumbling into what seemed to be the dining room, he straightened to find, two of them? The laughing party spared him a glance, offering a nefarious grin. Arthur took a moment to discern the two as they both wore the same apparel. The eyes were different, violet, and a small curl sprung from the amused man's hair, Canada who seemed to have stolen America's usual spark of confidence.

"Finally awake, Arthur? I had no idea our trade relations meant so little to you," he said, for once not mumbling in polite deference, an underlying threat lingered behind it. This triggered some of Arthur's pride. Where did the boy get off saying things like that to him?

"What is there to talk about? Simply offer your goods and I will buy them," Arthur said, not in the mood for this. The lights shined too brightly and made him want to hide under the covers.

"Have you forgotten our recent skirmish in Louisiana? You keep undermining my borders. I have put an embargo on you, or would you like to come join us when you are actually awake?" Matthew snapped at him, but he did not zero in on the threat. Instead, he focused on the alarming news he had just heard.

"Louisiana is part of America," A fact since 1803 when . . . it never happened England finally registered. Francis would not have sold the land to America if he were under British rule, and he'd always had a fondness for Matthew. Except, he had control of Canada as well. By Matthews angry glare, he corrected himself. He used to have control of Canada. Which meant, his kids just liked to revolt.

"Is that a declaration of war Britain? This isn't the nineteen century. I can push you out very easily," Matthew abruptly stood, and England could not fathom the seriousness of it from Canada who by all means pitched in rather than waged war. Kumajiro roared in support, and Canada petted the bear until he quieted. America responded in kind by grabbing his brother's shoulder.

"He doesn't meant it. Britain's a little hung over. Don't throw a temper tantrum now," America said quickly, very much diffusing his brother's anger. Canada suddenly smiled, shifting his focus to his brother. England paled, for he had seen that smile before, the smile of conquest. Like in the days of yore, America's face scrunched up in fear and sweat drops fell from his forehead. Canada swung his arm over his brother shoulder, easily reeling him in.

"Of course America, you are welcome to become part of the republic anytime," Matthew said, rather forcefully keeping America down. England simply stared as he realized how much stronger Canada must be to push his brother around.

"We are still anxious to trade with you, and a few isolated instances do not reflect the whole of the empire," America replied, appeasing Canada who finally let him go. He crossed the table to where Arthur sat.

"I'll be visiting again soon. You can't always be with my dear brother after all. Someone has to look out for him," Canada said, and the passivity of the remark reminded England of his old pirate days. _I won't take these boats away from you Spain, but I, certainly, will take some more out tomorrow. _When Canada left, he turned to America who watched him with a dulled sort of concern.

"Bring me a map America," England said. America complied, bringing in a large world map. Very many things were wrong, one, most countries's landmasses were relatively intact, including Spain's, meaning America no longer had control of Florida, Texas, or California. To America's left, lay the vast Louisiana territory which Matthew had claims to. Alfred had remained small because England had reigned him in.

"What are my relations with Francis?" he asked, trying his best to gather how worried he should be at this point.

"I assumed you were looking to have France appeal to Canada on your behalf. You just came in drunk instead," he didn't seem overly surprised which annoyed England. Pirate he had been, but he had been a disciplined one. If this self, who if he thought too long, may have never existed at all, had everything he could possibly want, why would he destroy himself with such simple things? On the bright side, he was on speaking terms with France. Good, well as good as it would get as far as Francis was concerned, then again, he wasn't an empire. Spain of all people still held prominence as did Russia and Prussia who apparently had not been pulled apart as he had originally. Still, keeping contact with him might give him some leverage against Canada, he wasn't sure how long he would be staying after all.

"Sorry about that lad," He really had just wanted to celebrate after finishing his diplomatic meeting with Francis. Instead, he'd stepped into a world where Canada was the America. The idea did not sit well with him.

"Do not worry. It's my fault. They're restless again; you know how they get. I'll talk to the governors and see what I can do," he said, and it did not escape Arthur's attention that Alfred did not ever question if his people were actually wrong in their discontent. He knew himself well enough(different time line or not) to know that he would have eliminated all of America's remaining options once conquered. This would include in a certain sense America's previous free will to rule as he saw fit.

"Alright then," he said, knowing he shouldn't get too involved, not when he wasn't truly part of this strange place.

"Since you are leaving soon, here is what I owe you. I'll handle things here," Two large brief cases slid across the table and assaulted his chest with a light smack. Opening the cases, he paused as he calculated the number of notes inside. Holding a couple of bills in his hand, he stared. The sum inside was staggering, way more than he had ever asked him for, yet less than America had charged him in the end of the war.

"For what?" he asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway. Arthur had always told himself that America was being a selfish overreacting prat. This Arthur had taken things too far, but he told himself that nothing was definite. This place was proof of that.

"Taxes," Alfred showed no hint of distaste or annoyance. He had grown to accept the status quo as this morning had so handily showed him. Did he really go so far? Was Alfred that suppressed?

"Right then," he said, unable to be glad for it. If only Alfred wasn't so empty of emotion when speaking, if only he could be a happy little colony, or he'd even settle for his boisterous old self. He didn't want this.

"Are you okay?" The concern in his tone at least hadn't changed from before, always that question.

"I'm fine," he said which to his growing acceptance Alfred understood, instead of pestering him to the point of making things worse. He nodded, instantly dropping the subject. Something else nagged at him. If Canada was independent, then, who else could the polar bear have referred to? Russia had grown a steady empire without the nations banning together to discourage it. Other cold climates generally kept to themselves, finding little niches to settle outside their main territory, even in the old days. Who had Great Britain considered worthy of aligning himself with?

"America, if the polar bear on the flag isn't Matthew's, who does it represent?" He wondered if Alfred would consider it a stupid question. Only a flicker of confusion showed, before Alfred answered.

"Greenland,"he said easily. A hunk of ice, yet, he clearly had still delved into the depths of Asia and Africa. Why mess with someone so close to the Nordic nations who weren't exactly without defense and power?

"When did I?" he couldn't think of why he'd ever do that. The wish had simply inserted him inside this space with nothing to hold onto, with the possible exception of Alfred. He didn't have the freedom to question what must be horrendous blunders on his part. Then again, no one had been surprised to find him drunk so he obviously hadn't been a well man. To be completely honest with himself, he's temper had been short when he'd been so strong, so worried, and after Alfred, so paranoid.

"We conquered a lot lands in our pirating days before you finally decided to settle down. Go rest, before you start telling me you don't remember WW1 and WW2, " Oh dear, how had that possible gone? If Canada of all people had revolted, he couldn't be sure how it would have played out.

"How did that go?" he asked which was again the wrong thing to say. Alfred's steady gaze wavered, and he gripped England's shoulders tightly, pulling him forward without much effort. England didn't struggle, learning from past experience that it would only add to the soreness later on. This also gave the colony pause.

"You're scaring me. Turn in," he said and pushing him upstairs more adamantly than before.

"Okay America," he said, knowing the strength of his supposed Empire was strangely absent. He had to find a way out quickly, and his room likely held the key to any magical reversal. Who knew what would happen if he stayed another day, he might find out he killed flying mint bunny in a drunken rage. It seemed to be shaping into that sort of reality.


	2. When You Have a Large Family

When you have a large family

So, England woke again to sheets covered in fleur-de-lils, and he grumbled, haphazardly rolling over and feeling for an alarm clock. Well away from his comfortably small flat, it annoyingly no longer stood at the bedside table and instead well across the room on top of the wardrobe. The strategic placement so deliberate that Arthur found himself glaring at the thing instead of getting up and shutting it off. However, even if he grew used to the sounds of sirens and traffic, there was something about the insistent beeping of the alarm that compelled him to turn it off. So, he finally rose, noting rococo paintings everywhere, so obstinately provocative: woman with voluptuous curves, playful brush strokes, not a damn care in the world and so purposely French. He wanted to vomit a little, but he fought the whim to hate France because he had no idea of who he hated here. Canada? No, he would have crushed him economically and militarily if that was it. Well, he'd find out soon enough. Russia was usually a good bet, or maybe, America's previous prejudice had stuck with him pretty hard. Ivan, well, he didn't come across as someone to trifle with, despite what the smile may tell him. Still, he dressed quickly on the off chance that America may try and dress him again.

Most of the suits he noted where Canada's size, and on closer inspection there was a small pet bed on the floor. So, he had been pushed into the wrong room the night before, and by the looks of it, Canada had cast away whatever English traditions Arthur had tried to instill in him. This didn't make much sense to him as a good chunk of Canada's original make up consisted of countries from the U.K. Then again, he noted one change that perhaps Canada had handled better than the rest of them. Many unmistakable native American designs were subtly implanted in the room including the wall paper that retained the geometric beaded styles he'd seen many times before. He might have even worn something similar once or twice back when he had an alliance with them. Arthur did not allow himself to think of that long.

He ventured into the hallway, continuing his observations. He noted how diverse America's tastes were here. Due to his fairly complex makeup, he did expect the odd thing here or there from America like Manga or an Italian painting or two. Here however, such things were everywhere, the sheer amount of art impressed him, assuming they were originals. America did buy and borrow many forms of art from all over for his people, but this art would be for his personal collection. He had prints and oil paintings from Germany which seemed to outnumber the other pieces. A few Fresco's from Italy graced the walls. Arthur guessed Venciano had painted them personally as there were no cracks visible on the surface. Meaning it had all been painted in one day, few other nations could pull off painting entire walls in one day let alone a human. A few select places had oil paintings from Spain(Velazquez and El Greco, he guessed from the styles.)

Still, his influence was still discernible among the clashes of culture. As he snooped, (This America probably would just excuse himself and leave him be anyway.) he noted that they still had many things in common. The Beatles thankfully existed, and it appeared that he had a signed record hanging in what England assumed to be his study. The works by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, William Shakespeare and Charles Dickens happily occupied the shelves. Then, of course, he found literature that he'd read the lad in his youth among the serious literature such as Beowulf (He had blatantly skipped over or altered parts.) and Robin hood. (He ignored Le Petite Prince which hadn't been written officially till long after his youth anyway. No matter if Francis had told a similar version to both Alfred and Matthew.) Several cherry trees were visible outside(although that was rather expected.) England had trouble finding anything non generic besides photographs that he could call America's. He supposed some technological advances were still his. He made too many to name, and England didn't bother to double check. Still, England saw no art that he could truly call America's own. Until, he found his real guest room. The style varied and borrowed from others, but he didn't have to guess as Alfred's name was written in messy scribble in the corner of one. Arthur had trouble understanding what to make of it. Not because America's efforts were lacking, they were gorgeous and well textured, much like a German artist's work. Not because the subject was confusing, well, it sort of was. More, it was how it made him feel. Did . . . Did Alfred see faeries? Elves? Unicorns? Spirits? Even Captain Hook? Any doubts of Alfred's sight disappeared when he saw a giant painting of Flying Mint Bunny above his bed. England's head spun, overwhelmed by a rather happy feeling that he normally squelched after such trusting agreeability had screwed him over time and again. He needed to focus on finding the texts and supplies that would get him out of here. Never mind that he might even call this a pleasant surprise. Unimaginable to gain such a gift later in life, he'd have to have been wiped clean. Arthur pondered that and the implications. He supposed he might have done that to a degree, but good had come out of it.

And so, England went into his closet, a walk in one. He preferred it greatly to the limited selection in the other. Since he obviously didn't live there all the time, the choices were still less than what he was used to, but it would do. He changed into something slightly more refined. Soon after, he combed the room but did not find traces of any magical books that he could reference. So, he continued on, letting his eyes linger on the paintings inside. He reminded himself that he wasn't up for any of this, and had grown accustomed to a certain mostly quiet way of living. That and this Alfred wasn't happy, even if he appeared to have a decent life on the outside. Speaking of which, he hadn't seen him at all. He would normally assume that it was due to his great stealth, but he hadn't been particularly subtle. England didn't mind much as it gave him time to find what he needed without another country/ awkward situation coming up.

He searched to no avail. There wasn't a trace of magic anywhere. England almost thought this was purposeful, almost. But why? Why would America shun magic when he was aware of its existence? Growing hungry, he made his way to the kitchen. There he received another surprise, Prussia and America wrestling on the table. Although England should have expected to meet him eventually as he held a considerable empire, (odd in this century to think that such things hadn't been disbanded) he never had thought Prussia might be one of his charge's allies, but then again, it had happened before. That only covered his initial shock, what truly confused him was America's behavior. At the moment, America had the advantage, grinning like a maniac, the sort of insanity England suspected he held deep within when he shot video game soldiers without a second thought. America had Prussia's legs pinned under his knees while he strangled the other, applying the force of his body to keep Prussia down while Prussia laughed like the psychotic twat he was. England reminded himself that the psychotic twat's instincts had proven useful when they were allies, never mind if he lost interest in that particular war or not.

"You always have trouble defending yourself when you actually get caught" America commented idly which seemed to be enough for Prussia to actually attempt more than holding America's hands back. He pulled his legs away from America's knees as best he could causing the other to momentarily lose his balance. Taking advantage of the weakness, Prussia relieved himself of America's strangle hold and twisted his body so he had America pinned and unable to get up.

"And you're always too short sighted to remain an effective force for long," Prussia replied, letting his smug grin grow wider as America scowled. The seriousness did not last long as America relaxed and laughed. Prussia similarly got off of America and held his hand out.

"Truce?" he asked, and America adjusted himself into a sitting position and took his hand without hesitation.

"Truce," he said, and England coughed to get America's attention. The change was instant, and he lost sight of the exuberant American's spirit he had witnessed moments before. He slipped off the table, looking a little ashamed to be caught as a small blush was on his cheeks.

"Hello, Great Britain, I assumed you'd left already to catch your flight, or I would have made you breakfast," America apologized, and England carefully evaluated what was best to say. He couldn't leave and be sucked into the role this Arthur had, Then, there would be no escape as he remembered just how much work it took to keep the place running smoothly. He dared not even consider if he were at war with someone right now.

"Yeah . . . um . . . well, I thought I would spend more time with you," England made up feebly. It wasn't a total lie. Prussia rolled his eyes and muttered mother hen. England would have socked him if he were less clear headed.

"Is this about what Canada said? He doesn't mean it," America insisted, and again, Prussia disapproved, shaking his head.

"You're too trusting. Canada wants to make your old man suffer, economically and emotionally. Taking you is the easiest way, you're close by. It's convenient," Prussia tried to explain, but it seemed America shut him out as his gaze lingered on the floor.

" I know he tries to annex me all the time. It's annoying, but he's still my brother you know," America said, and the parallels managed to make Arthur smile inappropriately at the irony. Prussia, however, held his fist high and made a declaration.

"We'll combine our forces and burn his place to the ground." Prussia, then, put his hands on his hips confidently. America waved his hands furiously in protest.

"He actually hasn't attacked me Gilbert." This caused Prussia to pause in the middle of his celebration dance. He was quite light on his feet, but that wasn't as important as what he had just heard. England puzzled over this as Canada had made his intentions very clear to Arthur when they last met.

"Then, what did he do?" Prussia said, the concept foreign to him. Art and culture he had, but ultimately, he got his way through war.

"He asked politely, and then, threatened me economically. I know you said not to trade with him, but he' s so close by, and his stuff is cheaper," Alfred confessed much like he did as a child when he would apologize and make a dozen or so excuses as to why he did what he did afterward.

"Why you-!" he stopped himself, before he relapsed into a familiar pattern. Breathing deeply, he told himself, It's not the same.

Prussia laughed, and America shifted uncomfortably.

"He's threatening you with cows, oil, and food," Prussia said, taking deep breaths in between his laughter. America karate chopped his head. He fell over and continued to gasp for air, still having trouble stifling his mirth.

"He has a lot metal deposits too, but" America added, before adjusting his melancholy mood in front of him into the stiff indifference that Arthur deemed as "the Great Britain is here" look.

"I have plenty of stuff he wants, he's bluffing," America claimed although he heaved a reluctant sigh.

"The problem is having food and raw products is a bit more pertinent than some of the manufacturing and high-tech things we do," America admitted, before sporting a reluctant grin which faltered as England kept staring at him.

"So, I'm fine really, even with a few rebellions here and there," America said, putting a hand on England's shoulder. The weight of it bothered England, because it really did seem he should be stronger, and help somehow. He shook his head. It still wasn't his place.

"Go home Great Britain," Alfred finished, and Arthur wavered, thinking carefully.

"How about I make some breakfast," England said, opening America's fridge which despite any possible restrictions Great Britain had put on the boy was varied in its food stuffs.

"Good, it's about the only thing you make that is actually edible," Prussia grinned, in that snarky way of his. England rolled his eyes and gathered the ingredients for a full on English breakfast: bacon, eggs, toast, marmalade, beans, bread, butter, and some juice for good measure. He didn't seem to have the stuff for black pudding, but it should be enough, even for Alfred's enlarged stomach. Although making a full on English breakfast wasn't an everyday thing anymore, he thought he would do so today. There wasn't a special reason. No. He just needed his energy to be able to get what he needed. Alfred sat down, and gave him a small smile before returning to his usual decorum.

"Thank you Arthur," he said, and England nearly missed the pan as he cracked the eggs.

"Yo -you-you're 're welcome," he stuttered which elicited some concern from both parties. America stood and went to the kitchen to grab a plate and a cup. He discretely whispered to Arthur.

"Are you sick?" America asked, taking some of the offered eggs and bacon. No nation liked to admit they were sick openly, but it was usually fairly obvious when they were. Arthur shook his head.

"Don't worry. I'm just glad you appreciate what I do for you," England said, leading to a small break in formality from America who patted his back.

"Of course I do," he said, sitting back down. Prussia had remained oddly silent through the whole thing, before being Prussia. He took his own helping of food, seeming to contemplate the exchange seriously.

"So, that's the whole repressed British affection crap," Prussia said haughtily, before mysteriously falling off his chair. It's not like America moved. No, he just ate his eggs and smiled for no reason.

" Prussia could you please tell me why you're actually here?" America asked finally. Prussia recovered from his fall and sat back in his chair, a small frown forming when he looked at England. Arthur ignored this and sat down, eating his well deserved breakfast.

"We can't talk about it now," Prussia said, shoveling some eggs into his mouth instead. America's gaze shifted to England, and stayed there for a significant amount of time before directing his attention back to Prussia.

"Oh, I already told you I wasn't interested," America said, and England knew well enough what Prussia was suggesting, in front of him no less. Prussia drank some juice and did not reply, taking his time to swallow.

"Spain and France have promised their support, and I'm sure a few of the Nordics would help you if you asked," Prussia said, finally outright saying it. Arthur against his better judgement stood and glared at Gilbert. The blatant disrespect Prussia showed in openly declaring a possible alliance with America unnerved him, and he would not tolerate it whether he was a part of this or not. America played with his food, and didn't look Britain in the eyes.

"There are still whispers that you will exchange America to Russia for your brothers. There's talk among his people. He is just ignoring it," Prussia said, and America gripped his fork tighter, bending it slightly.

"Wait. What about my brothers?" Bollocks. He could get away with forgetting things when he was supposedly drunk, but how would America react to this? Prussia luckily misconstrued the question.

"Don't pretend you weren't considering it. Releasing Wales, Ireland, and Scotland from Russia's rule after the WW2 fiasco was a very generous offer," Prussia said, pointing at him accusingly with his fork, but England remained puzzled. A few possibilities came to mind, but he needed to know specifics, just in case. Countries loved to point each others mistakes. He only needed to edge him on a bit. England folded his arms and huffed.

"What about him?" England said, making his distaste evident. Prussia examined his finger nails about to reply when America spoke.

"Leave Britain alone, he was just helping Japan," America demanded which seemed to infuriate Prussia.

" How can you still defend him after he was going to sell you to that communist bastard? Russia killed West," Prussia threw his fork down and rose, preparing for another confrontation. England became very aware that he might just have started a war with Prussia accidentally.

"He has a federation now," America snapped back. He had to diffuse this quickly.

"I'm not going to sell him, so both of you drop it," England said. Who gave a damn what his previous counterpart would have done? He cared for his siblings, but he wasn't sticking around so it didn't matter. However, it mattered very much to America. His angry glare disappeared as he covered his eyes to hide the sudden surge of tears England glimpsed.

"R-r-really?" he said, and England nodded. Prussia stood there dumbfounded.

"Okay, then," Gilbert said, sitting down and taking a bite out of his toast. England gave Alfred a quick hug that soon deteriorated into America nearly crushing him to death. He gasped, and America released him, patting his back which only added to the sting. America noticed England's wince, and all together became more agitated and red.

"Sorry," he muttered quickly. Once England recovered, the breakfast continued peacefully. At the end of it, Prussia stood and faced England who tried his best to appear confident even if he barely understood what all was going on in this world. By the way his expression smoothed over into a somber mask, Prussia appeared to have calmed down.

"Forgive me. America is like my Bruder. I assumed you'd continue being an asshole," Prussia raised his hand, and despite both claiming to be America's brother and insulting him, he shook it.

"Try not to be so hot headed next time," England said. Prussia only rolled his eyes.

"Don't let me catch you hurting America. Everyone's just waiting for you to slip," Prussia warned. Weren't they always?

"I assure you I won't," Which remained true either way, after he left, this place could return to being a forgotten what if. Prussia then walked over to America and placed him in an arm lock before giving him a noogie.

"Ow," America said, getting out of the hold.

"Take care of yourself," Prussia said. America nodded and saw him out. When America returned, he took care of the plates. Both parties didn't speak. England managed to form coherent thoughts after sitting down in the living room but actual words would not come out. What could he say? Sorry for almost making you go to war with Canada and Prussia? America sat down beside him, stiff, barely on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees while his fingers curled together in a ball.

"I know you've taken issue with me having relatively good relations with everyone, but the fact remains that I'm related to all of you," America said, flinching when he saw England's disappointed face.

"You raised me, but I have an open door policy with everyone. All sorts of people live here, so please try and not antagonize Prussia. He did train me so he can probably kick my ass if he really wanted to," A small smile appeared, and England felt his stomach twist when he saw what it was aimed at. In the center of America's many photos was a picture of England, America and Prussia at a funeral. Although Alfred held England's hand, Prussia practically clung to Alfred as the tears fell, and America hugged right back with his other arm.

"I know you would help me, but the balance between empires is tentative at best. I don't want you to crumble," America said, and the disbelieving look must have made him nervous. Alfred turned on the TV and muttered one last phrase under his breath.

"They're just my allies, honest," he said as an American game show came on, the one with the silly color wheel. Only half way through the show did England realize he had forgotten to continue his search for something to get him out of here.

"America, where could I find the magical texts? I seemed to have misplaced them," England said, giving up on finding where he hid them on his own. America shut off the TV. It must be serious.

"One rule, I have one rule. Don't bring magic into the house. I tell you the faeries here are monstrous little devils, but you never believe me. If it's gone, someone either stole it to sell since it's contraband, or those things got a hold of it. Forget it, it's gone," America finally caught himself, and let the anger leave him. He relaxed further into the couch before looking at him and even then, he couldn't disguise the glare.

"What exactly did you need it for anyway?" America asked, and after the boys vile scolding, he didn't think telling the truth would be best.

"I need to fix something I did before I got here. It's not something simple I can remember off the top of my head," England relented. America stood, urging England to follow his lead. He went into the study that Arthur had already searched. He picked up a compilation of William Shakespeare's original works. When opened, the pages revealed magical runes: disguised, clever boy.

"What is the nature of the problem?" America asked. England bit his lip, before replying.

"I may have altered reality with a selfish wish," he couldn't lie if he wanted a specific solution. Arthur may not have known him long, but he trusted this Alfred. He had defended him when he was clearly wrong, and the boy didn't hate him after threatening to sell him to Russia which in a way, proved he was more of a commodity than family. What was the harm? America finally really looked at him for the first time since that drunken morning. With the grace of an assassin, he punched him in the stomach and pushed him down. Before Arthur could stand, America placed his foot on his throat, threatening to crush his wind pipe but doing no more than applying the smallest of pressure. Alfred gathered his hands in a tight grip.

"You're not Great Britain, are you?" He closed his eyes to shut himself out of the situation. No. No, he was not.


	3. Wish You Were Here

Wish you were here

England had a long history, and thus, Arthur could be many things. Much of it conflicted and so, at times, he imagined no one could really understand him, not in the way each part of him fit together. He didn't believe China's rubbish of history repeating itself over and over. Naturally, when he found himself once again at America's mercy, he mentally cursed China for being the tiniest bit right in a strange convoluted way.

America pressed his foot a little harder on England's wind pipe. It was a little bit like several hundred finger nails digging into his skin, slowly carefully, lest he bleed, and if he pressed too hard, bleed he would, seconds before suffocation. England busied himself picturing the place deep inside where classical music met punk as privateers chatted with royals while the queen danced among the faeries. Arthur loved his happy place where everything he could be came together without struggle or strife and simply made sense. He couldn't stay there. He realized this about the time America removed his foot.

"Who are you?" he repeated, readjusting his hold so his foot pressed against his back instead. Again, he did not apply much pressure to his back, and it appeared to be more of a precaution than anything. England could no longer get a good look at him from his position on the floor, but he managed to strain his neck enough to try.

"I'm England," he said, mostly to measure his reaction. As it stood, he did not want to stir any more volatile reactions from America. Although he found his current situation humiliating, he would have to bide his time and try all rational venues before starting a fight.

"I'm not a faerie," England said, and America laughed.

"Yeah because a faerie wouldn't say that," America said, and England couldn't keep from groaning at Alfred's paranoia at overdrive (perhaps for good reason this time) and the prolonged pressure on his stomach.

"I come from a world where you won," England said, before the boy went to the trouble of procuring irons. This caught his attention, or at least, the seriousness of Arthur's tone had convinced him that he wasn't part of the unseelie court. He removed his foot from Arthur's back and took advantage of his strength to simply lift him off the floor. America, then, examined him once more. England scowled, reminded of just how much stronger America was, even here where Canada bullied him. Finally, he appeared to reach a decision. He put him down. When England didn't run, Alfred sat down on the couch.

"Explain," America said, patting the seat next to him, and the change in tone bothered him. He wasn't a friend like Prussia, nor was he Great Britain, arguably both his dear brother and strict commander. He was a stranger, and he was now being treated as such. Other than that, the gaze had become steady once more although the facade was not as religiously maintained. A morbid curiosity had been planted in the boy to the point that a small smile escaped his lips. He tried to hide it, but England had his full attention. As casually as he could manage, Alfred shifted his whole body closer to him. However, England wouldn't tell him, because Alfred wanted to know more than anything. His knowledge on the subject made good leverage. After all, if England couldn't conquer someone, he manipulated them, (ask China.)

"Wales gave me a gift, a wish orb. I accidentally used it and ended up here. I need a replacement," And, it really was that stupidly simple, and as soon as he returned home, his brothers would likely confiscate his magic stuffs for a good while.

"Not that part," America whined and let a pitiful frown form, complete with jutted lip. Perhaps, in any other instance, he would have caved completely. His immunity had weakened from lack of exposure. (He had a sneaking suspicion that Alfred had learned to use the puppy dog look selectively.) Today, Arthur could not oblige if only because he had lost faith that this Alfred would cooperate of his own accord.

"Will you help me?" Arthur asked, earning a smile from Alfred, a secret smile. Arthur did not like when America openly toyed with him. It reminded him too much of himself in the old days. However, what always bothered him most when he saw this side of America was the fact that England had raised him to behave this way._ I brought this on myself or he did rather. If I had to tell someone, I would openly admit I am grateful that America chooses to be kind. Still, in times like these, I wonder if such kindness is truly an act to hide his true purpose. _

"I have to," America said with quiet conviction. England couldn't make himself buy that idea, well aware that America was an excellent actor. He'd been fooled more than once, but no real harm had come to him then. Alfred just happened to take his pranks very seriously and would spend an ungodly amount of time making sure everything came together for the final ha ha. The stakes were higher now, and England couldn't make the mistake of automatically trusting America, that had backfired badly.

"Why? You're stronger than me. Forgive me if I prefer my safety guaranteed," England didn't mean for it to sound condescending, but the mistrust showed nonetheless. He didn't deserve his good faith. Unfortunately, he did need this Alfred's good will.

"Exactly, you don't have his strength," America pointed out as if the conclusion were easy to reach from there. England couldn't grasp the meaning behind it, not after the hard afternoon he'd had.

"And?" England asked. Was he implying he was weak, and couldn't help himself? England had been on the "I saved your ass" train before; he did not like it. So, he frowned in hopes to communicate that he wasn't overly desperate, only somewhat misplaced. America's optimism did not fade which was a nice change of pace from the iceberg like attitude he normally possessed.

"So, he still exists," America said, cheerful and confident, without comprehending how bad that was. A cold sweat overtook him, he'd been so sure that this place didn't matter. He'd made choices that would forever affect this world, and it was likely that Great Britain would do the same in his. He berated himself for casting away responsibility. Of course this place was real, it was much too unpleasant to be a dream, yet much too tame to be one of his nightmares.

"He's in-"England started to say.

"Your world," America finished. England did not like this at all. Arthur had been incorrigible as an empire, and had naturally relied on the steady growth of his colonies to maintain a certain lifestyle. Basically, no one told Arthur no, but the way the world worked now. . . It would cause problems.

"Let's get started then. For your double's safety if nothing else." England stood, just knowing that America would find a way to piss him off, and he was sure that Great Britain's tolerance for Alfred's antics hadn't improved with age.

"Why? Great Britain adores me."

Oh, how innocently naive this boy was, yes, he hadn't had the opportunity to grow an ego yet. He had to admit when this Alfred wasn't scared to express himself, he made decent company.

"I will tell you one thing. You become an ass," England admitted, expecting the other to be offended. Instead, America immediately cut in.

"Like Uncle Scotland?" Very much said in a friendly, he's just like that sort of way. England smirked, figures here they would have similar opinions.

"Worse," England said, and it appeared to have become a game of sorts for Alfred.

"Like Denmark?" Alfred answered almost instantly. Right, the Nordics, the missing piece of the puzzle that he wasn't sure where to place. Alfred had a strangely strong resemblance to the Nordics. What did it matter, he decided. He didn't need their magic. His was better.

"A special oblivious mix of the two," he concluded.

"Ah, I'm still a kid at heart then. That's nice," America's mood shifted suddenly after that, and his gaze fell to the cherry blossoms visible from the window. England couldn't help but frown at how bittersweet the sentiment was. He could just imagine the words underneath the indifferent eyes. _At least I'm free somewhere. _

" Anyway, you're the one with the spell books. I'll help you prepare as best I can," England offered, before the boy ended up too depressed to do anything. America didn't budge.

"I need to know the nature of the wish first," he demanded, and England couldn't quite read his intent.

"Selfish," England responded promptly all the same.

"You said that, but you never said what you actually wished for." He stared at England, nothing but curiosity present in his eyes as he searched for some small clue. And, it wasn't so much that he was ashamed of the wish, okay, maybe on some level, even if it were only the result of a stupid drunken stupor. He was thousands of years old, so it bothered him when he got stuck on small things like this. _Family. Why did I want it so badly? Why after so many years do such things eat at me? _

"It's not important," England said, picking up the fallen book which annoyingly had returned to being prose.

"I won't help you if you don't tell me," And there it is was, the bane of Arthur's existence, Alfred's ever present reluctance to help him out without getting something in return. _Did I really raise him to be that inconsiderate or is it some unfortunate genetic mishap? _

"You'd leave him in my world?" He couldn't help but take it personally. Perhaps things had gone sour here, but he had assumed, no, knew this Alfred cared for Great Britain. Yet, here he was threatening to abandon him because it was convenient or worse yet because leaving him there was better for him in the long run.

"I have other brothers," America said with eyes cast down, not in shame, but more to accentuate his indifference. He tried to think of an argument that would prove bringing back Great Britain was in his best interest, but he couldn't, because it wasn't. All the others were vying for his attentions. America had options in the friends and allies category. He's like a slightly more competent Italy here, (actually a competent Italy would be scary.)

"You ungrateful little brat, both of you," he spat which caused the other to shake his head. Another smile appeared, proudly displayed and implying his superiority in their current predicament. _I have less to lose than you do. _

"No, I just know that he will be fine. Where as, I can just hand you over to Spain or Russia and be done with it," he said, with a playful air. He spread his arms out and shrugged, very much toying with him some more. Damn that two face. Fine.

"I wanted my little brother back," he said, pulling out the words like a band aid, expecting the embarrassment to pass quickly.

"Which one? You might as well enjoy yourself a little since you went to the trouble," No, of course not, things would be too easy if he understood right away. He couldn't find himself vexed by his incomprehension. America's oddly humble assumption that it was someone else effected him strangely. The concept was too foreign, and he found it hard to directly say.

"Uh . . . um . . . I . . . ," he stuttered. America sympathetically understood he wasn't good at these kinds of things and spoke up.

"Hong Kong? He's probably worried you missed your flight anyway," he offered, and it wasn't a bad guess. He had stubbornly kept him until the last possible moment, and it helped he was actually quiet by nature.

"No, not that I'd mind seeing him, but you seriously can't guess?" Feeling awkwardly guilty dismissing one of his youngest but he couldn't afford to leave this safe haven. The others would probably notice a lot sooner he wasn't who he said he was.

"Canada?" he asked, and again, Arthur felt awkward dismissing one of his other children although with Canada he had good reason.

"No, he's actually pretty mellow where I'm from" Arthur revealed, thinking America might want to know more. America couldn't seem to imagine it, scrunching his face as he concentrated on picturing such a thing, before finally giving up.

"Huh, that's weird," he said in brighter spirits. Alfred always liked games. He did buy and produce a ridiculous amount. England found himself a little less anxious to get to work as his attitude infected him.

"Anyway, Australia?" Even Alfred sounded a bit unsure of that one, after all, originally, all England could think to do with the tike was send the boy convicts. Was it any wonder really that Australia was a bit on the wild side?

"No, we'd just argue over whether marmite or vegemite is better anyway" Those conversations were long, and done in fun, but England did not feel like keeping appearances here. America had trouble coming up with another one, and England did not want him to name one that he might have a mind to visit.

"Ah, is India a boy where you're from?" he asked sheepishly, and that lit England's temper.

"No. No. No. It's you, you idiot," he spit out. Really he couldn't possibly think so little of their bond could he?

"You're strange. Why love someone who betrays you?" America asked in honest confusion.

"He's- your, ah blast it. Alfred is my brother. Love is unconditional. It doesn't matter how many times he screws me over. I'll always care about him on some level," England said, not that he'd ever actually tell the other one. His ego was much too large already, and Arthur may rarely say no when it's important but he liked to keep his options open.

"No, it's not. Great Britain cares for me because I make the crown a fair amount of money. Otherwise, he would have sold me away in a heartbeat," America said flatly.

"That's not true," England said, disregarding that Great Britain's mind might not work quite in the same way as his.

"I wanted to believe that. I'm afraid I will end up with Russia when all is said and done. He seems nice enough. He smiles a lot," America said, trying to convince himself. Never mind if Russia might actually be nice to his colonies, stranger things had happened, he hated the uncertainty in his voice.

"Alfred," he paused, unable to think of the appropriate consolation for him.

"Great Britain never smiles. It's how I knew you weren't the same," America said, resigned to his fate. He let himself cover the entirety of the couch and turned his attention back to the cherry blossoms.

"Maybe he'll surprise you. I know I was much nicer to Canada after you left," England revealed because the parallels had been startling, and he had caught himself before he did something unforgivable in Canada's eyes. Even so, he had let go little by little and that was just as well. He'd been foolish to think he could force a family together. In some ways, he still did, no one seemed to mind, and yet, there would always be someone absent from their little activities. It's a price he payed gladly. America, more often than not, sought him out (not that such attention was always welcomed.)

"Maybe," America said, voice buried in the pillows.

"Come now, we'll eat some biscuits," he said and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. Alfred turned around, eying him suspiciously.

"Don't you want to go home?" he asked, and England forced a smile, not that he didn't want to, but it always came out creepy when he tried too hard. Still, he felt compelled to cheer the boy up.

"I would still like to spend some time with my brother. That is, if you'll have me?" he said, seeming to once again cave. He probably wouldn't punch him in the gut again; he hoped. America stood up, and had trouble keeping eye contact. He finally settled on looking down.

"S-sure," he stuttered. England put his arms around him and guided him to the kitchen. There, they ate biscuits with Nutella on Alfred's insistence. They tasted pretty good, and he now understood Canada's obsession with maple syrup. Sweet sticky substances make everything taste better.

* * *

><p>America had been having a pretty good day. All silliness aside, it seemed that the meeting on the global environment had gone well. Most people contributed without getting caught up in past vendettas. He tried hard not to attribute the relative peace to England who did often initiate the quarreling. (England couldn't help being the tiniest bit irritable most of the time. It was his nature.) He talked to his brother who of course had grown nervous by the fair amount of ice melting in his land. After assuring him he wouldn't disappear or shrink too much if all went well, the doors slammed open. Speak of the devil, there he was now. He seemed oddly disoriented and unsteady, nearly falling over a few times. A tired England tended to lash out more and normally meant a fight would break out. He wasn't focused enough to manage that, and most of the countries walked passed him without a second thought. He stopped suddenly, squinting at him in mild confusion. Then, he calmly walked over, and at this point, America was ready to duck out. When England was tired, generally, it was Alfred who suffered his wrath, (because it was always his fault, whatever the problem happened to be.) Unfortunately, England managed to get a hold of sleeve and keep a surprisingly firm grip. He took his glasses, and America let out a muffled protest.<p>

" America step away from your brother, before I make you into the next Carthage," England said in a tone America hadn't heard in a long time. It made him uneasy, but he brushed it off and responded like he normally would to that attitude.

"No way, we're trying to figure how to save the polar bears here," America said with a grin, pulling Matt into an impromptu hug. Canada managed to somehow almost trip on his own two feet at the sudden ambush. England glared, and there wasn't any fire to it, only ill intent. America chose not to recognize it lest he set him off. He pulled out something from his pant leg. America didn't think much of it until he pointed the now apparent gun at Matthew. Then, Alfred could admit he was more than a little nervous.

"Wow, you feeling okay England? You know guns aren't allowed in the conference room," America said and attempted to laugh it off, but it was very rapid jittery laughter.

"By the way, if you're looking to point a gun at me, I'm over here," America said, consciously stepping in front of Matthew. Canada in turn hid behind him, both well aware he was less likely to shoot Alfred.

"I know who I'm aiming at," England said, trying to maneuver past America. He successfully blocked him from doing so. This led to a round about sort of pattern. After about the third round of this, Canada couldn't take the game anymore.

"Wwwhat did I d-d-do?" he said, freaked out. Canada hadn't done anything to piss England off in a long time, and even then, it had never escalated into an actual fight. (He couldn't say the same for some of his men who were promptly hung.)

"Nothing Canada. Let me handle this," America said, fully cursing the no gun rule. He had plenty of guns, just not here. England took a step back, and he looked a little hurt by the comment, confusing Alfred all the more. The most he ever expected anyone to do at these things was wound each others egos. This was a little much. A second later, he was back to being crazy, and it was starting to look like he might actually shoot him.

"So, you are betraying me, you little brat. I knew you hadn't really changed," England hissed which worried Alfred. Talk of betrayal was usually reserved for drunken nights, but he was holding his gun too accurately for that to be it. He had to be delirious. He was still coordinated when delirious.

"Is this about me making fun of your Olympic mascots, or that I'm hanging out with Russia more instead of you?" Then again, if he was delirious, he could have just as easily decided he deserved to die for no other reason than he stole his donut or something.

"I only threatened to sell you to Russia. You weren't supposed to like him," England said, going into a flustered rage. Russia suddenly sprang up behind Alfred in that creepy was of his.

"Russia wasn't aware of this, da,"he said, making America erupt into even more jittery laughter. Sadly, Canada didn't take the time to run. He held onto America tightly, stuck in deer in the headlights mode.

"That's because it isn't true, Russia. Forget you heard anything," America said, waving his hands around frantically. Seriously, the become one with Russia jokes had just stopped last week. He didn't need them to make a comeback, and definitely, not concerning him. He hadn't been in danger of being one with anybody since the nineteenth century anyway.

"What the hell, England?" he snapped, forgetting about the gun. Well, until he pointed it right at his stomach, at least the trigger wasn't sensitive.

"You keep calling me that. It's Great Britain to you. I haven't been that small in a long time," he claimed. Practically shouting, not pathetically like normal, even Alfred found it loud.

"Oh dear, he's relapsed. Get him a nice hot drink and some Frazzles and he'll be fine" France said, appearing between both of them. Actually, it was more like he had watched the entire thing and came in when it was most opportune. He's good at that. Canada finally had the sense to try an leave.

"I'll get it," he said, trying for once to actually be invisible during the commotion.

"Don't move Canada, not until I know what going on here," Delusional Great Britain said.

"Okay " Great Britain" calm down," he said using air quotes, just in case he remembered any of this later. Surprisingly, Arthur listened, taking a deep breath, muttering something about he was just raised French.

"You're right. Just go home boy," he said, pointing the gun at Alfred. England didn't need to tell him twice.

"Well, the meeting's over so okay," he said cheerfully. He heard groans. Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say to the guy.

"What meeting? Why wasn't I informed?" He shouted at everyone, but at the very least, he put the gun away.

"You were late," China said. Some of the remaining nations glared. England huffed, not taking his input well.

"Shut it China. This is none of your business," England snapped, and it didn't help there already fragile relations. (Centuries of screwing over the other party will do that, poor China.)

"Tch, I'll leave you to your mental break down," China said walking out, and England didn't care in the slightest.

"Eng- Great Britain, you're tired. France went to get you your Frazzles. It's going to be okay," he said as nicely as he possibly could, but he accidentally slipped into a speech pattern he used with kindergartners.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child."

Well, someone called him on it. He was tired of dealing with the jerk. England would have normally passed out by now.

"We'll stop acting like one," America said, and he heard mutterings of dead idiot walking from the group. Sure enough, he forgot the gun. He held his hands up, laughing nervously some more.

"Gun, right. Okay, okay, you adult, me leaving, come on Canada," America said, grabbing his brother who was probably shaking more than he ever did at home. Somehow, Canada seemed to be his trigger today.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" England said, pointing the gun at him one minute and at Canada the next.

"Going to the hotel with Canada because we have the same flight?" he said, trying to explain as rationally as possible that they lived next store to each other. Mister "I'm Great Britain" paused, lowering the gun. He had moved on to looking at his surroundings.

"I suppose that makes sense. Where are we?"

Okay, maybe, he hit his head. How else would he forget this place of all places?

"London, did you hit your head or are you drunk?" Neither seemed to fit completely, he was oddly insane, yet clear headed, a lethal combination.

"I'll have you know I've been sober for a month, boy," he said as if the amount should be impressive. Is that how he sounded in the 1920's? He'd had to talk to his uncles about cutting him off.

"It's America, England," he corrected because such talk annoyed him. That was how he talked to him back when he could bully him, and he might not bomb his ass, but he wasn't going to put up with that either, gun or not.

"Well, so long as you're here America, you can stay at my place and not with Canada," England offered, and he might have taken it if he hadn't come in all crazy and in Canada's face.

"Why are you so mad at Canada? If you saw him do something, it was probably me," he admitted which was true ninety percent of the time. Canada tended to be more passive aggressive, and generally, didn't get caught when he actually did something.

"I suppose you did start it. Didn't you boy?" he spat, and America ignored it.

"Sure, now put the gun down," he said, having gone through enough negotiations to stay focused on the main issue.

"Fine, come along, Alfred," he hadn't loosened his grip on the gun and instead carelessly gestured him to come with it. France appeared triumphant in his snack purchases, thank Lady Liberty for that.

"I have the Frazzles~," France said sticking the bacon chip into England's mouth. It did seemed to have a calming effect at first, and he even took the drink. Then, England punched France in the face. He proceeded to finish the chip and pick up the fallen Frazzle bag.

"Well, that was actually pretty nice France. Next time Prussia invades your lands, I might actually help you" England said earnestly, eating another chip. France shook from his position on the floor.

"Darn, he didn't snap out of it," France muttered in dismay. England or crazy Britannia (so girly), grabbed his hand and actually succeeded in dragging him forward. He didn't even look tired after a few minutes of this. The situation wasn't helped by the fact he was constantly almost falling.

"Ow, you're pulling too hard," he whined which England ignored, intent on getting him through the door.

"Quit complaining Alfred," England said as if he were still a kid. That's it. He dug into the carpet with his heel.

"I'm independent. I don't need to take this crap," he snapped, and England stopped.

"Alfred," They yelled simultaneously. He goofed.

"Oops," he said, rapidly trying to think of ways to soften the blow, but he could already feel the cold blue wave of poison coming from the man in front of him. He didn't have the advantage of hiding in a tree and shooting at him this time.

"What did you say boy?" he said, daring him to say it again while everyone else looked at him as if he should simply lie. Alfred just couldn't do that.

"You know what I'm not ashamed of it, and I never will be. I'm independent," he said, much to Canada's alarm.

"The gun, Alfred, remember the gun," Matthew pleaded, fairly anxious now. Sure enough, England (I should have put him in a retirement home by now.) pointed the gun at him.

"Oh, that thing again," he said nonchalantly without erupting into nervous laughter for once. Despite his bravado, England kept his gaze steady and the gun pointed at him because pretending to be tough only worked in eighties movies.

"Take it back," he demanded, hand idly on trigger. His hand wasn't shaking, not like before. He would shoot. Alfred didn't care. When it came to someone compromising his freedoms, sometimes he didn't think straight.

"No," he said again.

"Alfred, it's a bad idea," Canada butted in, and once again, the anger was directed at Canada.

"Quit patronizing me boy," he said snidely while still keeping his sights on America.

"Take it back or I'll shoot," he warned. His finger was closing in on the trigger. America braced himself and waited for the bullet to hit him.

"That's it. England put the gun down. This is a meeting room, not a war zone," Germany yelled. Italy shouted that he didn't want Germany to die. Otherwise, the room remained silent, including Arthur, who'd turned deathly pale. England put away the gun, amazed.

"Germany, you're alive?" England said, wide eyed. Germany shifted uncomfortably. That sort of look reminded him of too many things.

"Of course I am," he said, but England had lost interest. Arthur appeared dazed as if suddenly hit by a tranquilizer dart.

"This isn't right," he said, and America decided it was his duty to step in and nudge the Brit in the right direction.

"It's cuz you're having a mental breakdown," he said, some of the slang his kids used slipping in.

"Speak properly, Alfred. I'll not have you babbling," he insisted, and Alfred could just hear the rest of the rant. Alfred how dare you rip off my plays and turn it into sparkly crap? Alfred quit stealing my TV shows. Alfred stop imitating my accent behind my back.

"Not important right now, remember, two hundred and thirty five years of independence?" he said, not wanting to get shot for it later.

"Two hundred . . . that flash . . . Everything is different," England said again, going into a deep meditation. That's a good start.

"Good, now, calm down, I'll still come with you if it will make you feel better," he offered, knowing he usually did snap out of whatever mood he was in after a nap.

"What about the rest of my empire? Is that gone?" he asked, seeming a little sad. In his head, America whistled innocently.

"Yup, but hey, you got to keep a little piece of Ireland. That's something," he said, trying to cheer him up. America didn't actually like it when anyone was bummed out. There was a glint in his eyes. America instinctively stepped back. England pulled out his gun again. Alfred really needed to confiscate that. Didn't Arthur have the no guns rule in the first place?

"I'll just have to win it all back then," England said. Shit, America did not want this escalating into a shooting. They'd never be able to get it out of the carpet for one, and it would forever strain England's relations with everybody or at least for a few months. (Sometimes it really did seem like schoolyard around here.)

"We should settle this like men," he said, putting his hands on his hips. England smiled, but again, Alfred's skin crawled. He was humoring him.

"And what do you propose?" he asked, keeping his gun at the ready. He must have noticed America staring at it.

"Um .. . eh . .. Paper Rock Scissors," he said. It was a fairly easy game to play. He wouldn't have time to change his mind. England laughed mockingly.

"You expect me to believe that's how you all solve your problems," he said, mildly amused. Alfred was going to stick with it.

"Yeah, right guys?" he asked. Silence.

"Agree with me for once in you life!" he shouted desperately. England had a gun to his head for Roosevelt's sake. They muttered agreements begrudgingly. England chuckled, putting the gun away. Alfred would make a grab for it later.

"Fine. If you really want to play that badly," England said as if he were doing him a favor. Which he was in a way, but still, he was such a self entitled mom sometimes.

"Okay, then, best two out of three, if I win, you give me the gun and stop trying to rule over everybody. If you win, I take back my independence," America said, thinking they were good enough bluffs while he was like this. There was concerned muttering in the room however.

"That's horrible," Matthew exclaimed, likely ashamed to have started the whole thing- somehow.

"Be careful America," Japan said, leaving for he had a literal sea of problems to deal with as it was.

"Oh Germany, everybody's fighting again," Italy cried worriedly, waving a white flag. Germany sighed. He'd gone eight months without doing that, took him to therapy and everything.

"It'll pass. If there is one thing I believe in, it's America's dumb luck," Germany said with a rueful grin. America gave everyone a thumbs up.

"Everything's cool, guys. I'm a master when it comes to this game," he said, cracking his knuckles. So, they formed their hands into fists and hit the other hand three times before picking.

"Paper," England said, without much enthusiasm. Probably, wishes there was a gun involved in this game. Crazy gun nut. Texas twitched on his nose, (Heh heh.)

"Scissors," he called out at the same time. After realizing he pulled it off, he let out a resounding ha. Then, they did the same thing again, each with a little more enthusiasm.

"Paper," England said again.

"Rock," America bit his lip. He had expected him to change signs.

"Uh oh . . . no problem,"America said with as much confidence as he could muster. He didn't want to lose, even if he wasn't going to follow through with what he said. America would never live it down. Not too many of them were here but Italy was a gossip so everyone would know eventually.

"Scissors" they said at the same time. The next round happen quickly as they were eager for the results.

"Paper" they said again, and he wondered if England could read his moves. He let the creepy thought fall to the way side.

"Scissors" they both said once again. He was getting tired of it. He was going to change it up.

"Paper" England said with a smug smile.

"Rock" America said, mouth agape. Only after that did he realize, England had followed a simple pattern, and he still lost.

"Shit, I'm never going to live this down," Alfred said although everyone was too shocked to actually tease him about it yet.

"Don't worry. He should snap out of it in the morning," France said, raising his arm in the air in encouragement. He hadn't left the floor yet.

America didn't get to use his contingency plan and carry Canada out of the room. (Hey, the other countries were more than capable of dodging a few bullets.) England easily grabbed his arm and dragged him outside like a pull along toy.

"When did you get so strong," America said, sounding impressed in spite of himself.

"Shut up boy, just for that, you aren't allowed to trade with Spain. I've seen how Texas has been trying to seduce you," England ranted, and nothing about that sentence was historically accurate at all. Also, Texas hadn't seduce him. She'd just had been . . . um persistent. Yeah, that's it.

"What?" he said, but when he didn't respond, he tried again.

"Um, I own Texas," Alfred said, wondering if any of this was getting through or only making him crazier.

"Now, look who hit his head," England teased, attempting to sound light hearted, and yet, failing. He also checked to make sure America was still there a lot. He wasn't sure why with the vice grip he had on him.

"You," America said tartly.

" This always happens when you talk with Canada too long. You influence each other too easily," he grumbled as if they'd had this conversation before. America had enough of England picking on Canada.

"Stop picking on Canada. You scared him. It's not funny,"America said. Despite his unusually serious tone, he failed to sway him, and England instead laughed in that melodramatic way super villains do.

"Good, teach him to threaten me with an embargo in Louisiana," England said. Again, Alfred worried for his mental health.

"Um, England- Britain- Great Britain, put the gun away," he said, growing more nervous the closer he pointed the gun at him.

"If you could get my name right on the first try, I wouldn't need a gun," England replied reasonably.

"Anyway, I own Louisiana," America said, and he laughed, but it was softer.

"Silly, America, Louisiana belongs to Canada," he said, and America couldn't help but feel the slightest bit patronized.

"Not everything French belongs to Canada," he said, a little miffed.

"I suppose this place really is topsy turvy," England said, more to himself than to him.

"Tell me, are you actually independent here?" he said as if he didn't believe it. Maybe, he should do it Hungary's way and hit him with a frying pan and be done with it.

"Yeah, does this mean you're snapping out of it?" he asked hopefully. Acceptance, was the first step to recovery.

"So, you didn't fail miserably," he said surprised. America rolled his eyes. Yes because a bison tossing baby couldn't take care of himself.

"No but you tried really hard to make me fail," he said. England was quiet, speculative, taking it all in. All this was better than America could hope for now.

" Yes, I suppose I would," he said finally. He was quiet, and at least, he seemed to know where he was going.

"Do I . . . see my family often?" he asked, and that could mean a lot of things. All the more confusing when they called each other siblings.

"You mean my uncles?" America asked. He was subdued, thinking hard.

"Yes,"he replied finally.

"Well, you avoid them most of the time, but yeah, sometimes, you'll hang out," America said, careful not to say it was mostly during the beer drinking holidays.

"Good, do we get along?" he asked.

"You want me to lie?" America asked, avoiding the question and answering it at the same time.

"Ah, it's like that," England said with a smile. He didn't say anything for a good while, and many streets were crossed in the meantime. Finally, at a red light, he spoke again.

"And Canada?" he asked, seeming hopeful. Something was off about it, none of it matched up with how he should have acted back then. He just seemed to be an entirely different person, but that couldn't be right. It was still England, just a little more gun crazy. America hated when he was missing something obvious. Hopefully, he'd be able to get to the bottom of it.

"When you remember him, yeah," he replied. He looked a little guilty,( about time.)

"And Prussia?"This surprised him. They what? Fought in a war together once. Twice maybe?

"Well, he does awesome pranks, and he's still kicking despite you know . . . the dissolution and everything," he said, not wanting to be very specific about that time. (The obvious exception for him being when he talked to his kids about it.)

"Ah, I suppose that's why . . ." England said, looking slightly relieved. Then, his gaze turned hard.

"What of China?" he asked.

"He's booming economically,"America replied cheerfully. England glowered.

"Typical," he said.

"Here we are," England said, checking for a key under the mat. He scratched his head. He didn't seem to remember that he'd moved it so it was under the faerie statue, not that America wasted government resources finding out these things. He used binoculars like everybody else.

"Hey, E-Br-Arthur, the keys," he said when England appeared to be checking how thick the door was. He couldn't react fast enough to explain, and Arthur kicked the door off its hinges.

"Or kick down the door, that works too," America said, starting to accept the craziness.

"Man, I didn't realize you were this much of a pain to everybody else while I chilled," He really had been prepping himself to be on his own, so the less he had to with Britain back then the better. Still, he was beginning to appreciate the crap they went through in the meanwhile, not that he didn't have his own flaws. They were pointed out often enough.

"Get in the house boy," he instructed, already moving inside. America could have escaped, but it was likely this phase would end soon. Also, he didn't have to leave until the next day so time wasn't an issue.

"If you're not going to call me America, at least call me Alfred," he said, tired of being called that demeaning term, left over from England's pirate days. He hadn't been just a boy for a few decades.

"Very well Alfred, make yourself at home, while I look for some books," he said, already sounding more hospitable.

"Hmm. . . yes, thank you. No I shall not make trouble while I'm here. I can only hope he does the same,"he said talking to air, so much for becoming saner.

"Are you talking to yourself again?"Alfred asked, knowing the truth already. Thanks to Peter Pan he wouldn't say it out loud, but come on, more faeries?

"I'm talking to a brownie, Alfred, but I suppose you were never fixed so you can't see her."

America didn't like the way he said fixed, but decided to take advantage opportunity to make an obvious joke.

"A brownie, huh? Can I eat it?" he piped up. England looked a little bored.

"Alfred, I'll get the gun out again," he warned, and Alfred didn't think it was worth the fight.

"Fine, think what you want," he huffed and crossed his arms.

"Feel free to do what you'd like while I'm gone, Alfred, but don't think of leaving. I may not have Finland's expertise as a sniper, but I have a decent range," England repeated.

"Whatever," he said, sitting on the couch. He grabbed the remote and decided to watch some TV. It's no like he had anywhere else to be. America went ahead and informed Canada he was fine by text. Several texts where exchanged, mostly consisting of Canada urging him to get out while he still could, he assured him he would be fine. Canada gave up convincing him and asked him to be careful. After that, he watched the BBC for a while before becoming bored and switching to cartoons. What? He needed something to balance out the depressing political atmosphere. America was left alone for a while so he assumed England fell asleep. He decided to stay so he could make sure England was better when he awoke.

"After a great deal of research, I believe I have found a solution," England said, returning triumphantly. America was always concerned when anything involving time travel came up. More than a fair share of his movies explained how it was rarely a good idea to mess with such things.

"To what?" he asked slowly and somewhat apprehensively.

"Getting home," he said matter of factly. No way America was going to lose him to some freaky vortex that would take him into the dinosaur era so he could get eaten by a t-rex or something.

"You are home. Let's not play any more irrational parlor tricks okay?" America said, accidentally, applying the Russian smile complex. He usually preferred to use it when at home, treating the world meetings more like a vacation than anything given the opportunity. (He did try to be productive most of the time if only to give Ludwig a break from the chaos. )

"Look, I am not England. From what I've gathered, he and I have in a sense swapped roles. Since I still have my strength, I assume I can still get back with the proper device," he tried to explain, but making up a second England was too much. Alfred tapped Arthur's head lightly to snap him out of it, but America was ignored.

"Since a wish's power comes from desire, there is no quick counter spell other than making my own wish, and believe me after seeing you, I am more than ready to go home," he said, his distaste showing. America rolled his eyes. England made it a point to make sure he knew that he was the black sheep of the family. Sadly enough, England had the same title when it came to Europe. With that logic, America took it more as a complement than anything.

"Well, sorry to be such a disappointment, but I'm not letting you do something stupid while you're crazy. I'll have to save your butt again when something goes wrong because something always goes wrong," America said because no matter what excuse the Brit made. He'd done it more than once.

"I'm not crazy you idiot,"he barked, but Alfred had been quick enough to launch a preemptive strike. He grabbed the book, ignoring the nagging thought that he should have taken the gun first.

"Give me back my book," he said, jumping up in an attempt to grab it. America navigated away enough of the time to make the effort futile. Luckily, England hadn't thought to pull the gun out yet, with some luck that wouldn't become an issue.

"When you stop calling yourself Great Britain, maybe I'll give it back, maybe," he said, waving the book in the air tauntingly. He was starting to have a bit of fun with this.

"I am Great Britain, boy," he snorted. America finally had a clear shot at the gun. He pulled the gun off, complete with holster, causing England to almost fall over.

"Yoink," he said with unabashed glee.

"My gun," Arthur said, somewhat distraught. America examined what had caused him so much trouble today, recognizing it.

"It's not a bad handheld. Looks like one I made," he said, because he probably did.

"You did or rather he did," England said, and America rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, another him, ridiculous, two of him would make the world explode.

" Go to sleep. You should be back to normal, tomorrow," he said, pushing him upstairs as best he could. This was going well until the cool gaze returned.

"Very well, Alfred, if I cannot convince you by logic, I'll have to convince you by force." He turned, punching him in the face and knocking him down. England then dragged him downstairs by the scruff of his jacket.

"Woah," America said, worried by his sudden assertiveness. He didn't want to end up in a hostage situation after convincing Canada he knew what he was doing. England mysteriously produced some rope, and tied him up. Despite struggling with all his might, Arthur was just too good at reading what he would do, and too strong to be avoided by brute force alone. The rope seemed to glow ever so slightly, but that was silly. Even worse, England had found a gag, again conjured out of nowhere.

"Now be a good boy," England said, patting his head. America glared. Even now, he was being treated like a little kid. Stupid England.

**Now, I normally don't ask for reviews, but come on, we are three chapters in. It's getting sad. (: **


	4. Why Should I Stay?

Why Should I Stay?

For the most part, America hated surprises. Outside of holidays or birthdays, they tended to be bad things. So, he was not amused when he awoke to more of crazy England's chanting(or Britannia /evil wizard for as much as he cared at this point.) For one, he was somewhat blind without his glasses, and he couldn't place where England had set them. Then, there was the fact that he'd fallen asleep while tied up, leaving him stiff. Another thing about that, he couldn't get loose. Every time he came close, the ropes inexplicably became tighter, or perhaps that was the paranoia setting in.

"It didn't work," England said, tonelessly, not particularly to America or even himself. Kneeling with his hands flat on the floor, he appeared to be frozen in place. America had trouble removing the gag with only his jaw, and it didn't help that it had stayed in place the entire night. He managed to push the ball out of his mouth and cut the fabric that held it in place with his teeth. He savored the feeling of his newly freed jaw, moving it around, despite the soreness this caused. The Brit's eyes hadn't left the "magic" circle.

"Because it isn't real," he answered, hoping Arthur's failure would make him come to his senses. England scowled, clutching the chalk in his hands tightly. He wondered if it had been a mistake to speak up before untying himself. (He might have another gag somewhere.) England, however, wasn't particularly paying attention to him. So, he decided he might as well give untying himself another shot.

"That damn copy cat doesn't want to leave," England muttered darkly. His free hand blurring the chalk outline in frustration or malice. Alfred wasn't sure, and he didn't want to find out. So, as he failed to maneuver one arm loose and instead twisted it uncomfortably under his other arm, he spoke up since his uber spy skills weren't that spectacular today.

"Dammit Arthur, there is only one of you," he shouted, and England continued to erase his complicated and from what he'd seen, tedious work. Alfred frowned. This hadn't been his first attempt. How many times was he going to start over?

"Don't try my patience right now boy," England said, the warning evident, but there wasn't nearly enough bite to assume the "I'll shoot you" part. All the same, Alfred could tell his thoughts weren't exactly all unicorns and rainbows.

"At least untie me," he asked, voice cracking slightly, somewhat embarrassed. How many calves had he done this to over the years? Logically, he should be able to do the untie part of it too.

"Yes, I suppose I'm stuck with you for the time being," he said with a reluctant lilt, and a resigned sigh. He did catch a small flicker of a smile before he stood. Which made what he had to say all the more awkward, it's not that he wanted to leave during his mental breakdown, but elections were coming up.

"Um, actually, I have a flight to catch like in an hour, and then, I still have to go get my bags before that," he said, although he could always get Canada to take his bags to save time.

"You're not leaving with Canada," he said in a low murmur. The reluctance in which he said Canada could be compared to England trying to swallow rocks. The implied distaste reminded him of how Arthur used to speak to him. _No, America, I will never celebrate your independence day. _

"We live next to each other. Why are you so hung up on this?" He did want to know. They'd been on the same continent since forever. In fact, it was England who forced them to get better acquainted with one another. Before then, America had referred to him as that kid with the polar bear. Later on, he had learned that Canada used to call him that kid with the bunny. Also, England had wrestled Canada out of France's grip. Despite the harsh cold weather (Mostly, Canada claims they have summer at some point. Alfred had yet to experience it.), England had still tried his best to make use of his new territory. America had similar relations with England in the beginning. While Spain had been primarily interested if he had gold or not, (America still remembers the look on his face when he offered him corn.) England had been much more patient. He'd sent people to farm the land.

" Alfred make yourself useful and cook breakfast," he griped, untying him by pulling the end of the cord. He was loose. Just. Like. That. England inspected the floor covered in chalk dust. He rolled the chalk between his fingers, possibly thinking of giving it another go. However, he pocketed the chalk and turned to America.

"Arthur, I'm leaving," he said, and England immediately pulled out the gun. Even as a black blurry outline, it made him nervous. He attempted to grab the gun so he wouldn't have to waste time with diplomacy. (If he had to say Great Britain one more time, he'd punch someone out.) America miscalculated, and England pulled the trigger instinctively. The bullet hit some random faerie memorabilia on the shelf. Alfred was probably going to hear a long winded rant about that later.

"No, we are not playing the gun game today," he said, feeling around the table for his glasses. Normally, he wouldn't turn his back on the Brit when he was like this, but his death grip on the gun allowed him some level of security. America grew uneasy when he heard England start moving about, especially when he heard the obvious sounds of scattered searching. England would have some ancient sword stuck in a drawer somewhere. The sounds stopped, and the footsteps came closer to him. Alfred turned in time for England to put his glasses back on.

"I do believe you have a contract to fulfill," England reminded him, extremely passive. Yet, his eyes remained on America, daring him to disagree. America subtly inched the gun as far from England as he could while keeping it close to his body. It's not that he was scared or anything. It just seemed England was liable to snap at any moment.

"We were playing paper, rock, scissors. It doesn't count," he said with a cheesy grin. No anger. No resentment. No anything. England walked passed him and returned with a broom. He started sweeping the chalk dust into a neat pile. Considering that England tended to scream and shout, the silence was much more unsettling.

"Leave then, if you're a liar, I don't want to have anything to do with someone who isn't honest" England said, casually waving him away. Somehow, he ended up rooted to the spot. Damn. Why did he have to say it that way? Once England cleaned the floor, he took out some fresh chalk.

"You're going to try more of that magic circle stuff aren't you?" America said, starting to feel that this wasn't normal, despite France's claim that it has happened before. England returned to the floor and started to draw the edge of the circle.

"Try and stop me, and I'll tie you up again," England said, completing another perfect circle before writing out complicated runes. They looked vaguely familiar, such deja vu usually stemmed from knowledge that he didn't normally access. There weren't many times when he needed to know Latin, Gaelic, etc. Still he had a diverse population so odds were someone knew something that he would need at some point. It was a nice safety net.

"Whatever, it won't work anyway," America said as he had already seen him try it more than once. True, he did seem to be working off some knowledge gained beforehand, but his efforts had been useless so far. America didn't want him to succeed that would make things complicated. His failure to even elicit some sort of magic residue like glowing runes or sparkles convinced him that he didn't need to stop England from trying again. Arthur would give up on his own when it became clear he wasn't going anywhere.

About an hour later, England had crafted an exact replica of the last transmutation circle and had begun muttering another chant. Arthur's voice always seemed to get deeper when he said spells but their lack of effect and repetitive cycle kept Alfred from freaking out over the sudden change as he had in the past. After he finished, Arthur waited and waited, until he simply let the chalk drop from his hand. America could only see his back but the way he lay hunched over the circle let him know that he should keep his mouth shut. England really did believe he didn't belong here. He would simply have to let him down gently.

"Blast it, since he wished first, I can't get through. Maybe if I," he picked up the chalk again, and began rubbing away the runes once more. America couldn't stand letting him waste another couple hours on something that would never work, especially when his hands were starting to shake.

"Arthur, it's just getting sad," America said, but the Brit continued to rub way at the runes. He was being selective of what he erased this time, simply replacing parts.

"Shut up America, and it's Great Britain, " he corrected. There wasn't any actual anger to his words as far as America could tell; it was automatic as he was too preoccupied making subtle changes to his work.

"I'll stick with Arthur. It has one less syllable," he reasoned, and if it was between calling him that or Great Britain, he would call him Arthur every time.

"Ah, the plague that is your laziness, it's no wonder you used to misspell things constantly," England mused fondly as if it hadn't happen all that long ago. This worried America, because comments like that made him second guess the belief that England was just hallucinating. If he were making up small details about this alternate time line, he might be too far gone to snap back into reality. Alfred decided to test this theory.

"Let me guess you pointed a gun at the other me until I stuck the u in the proper place," he joked lightly. England didn't deny it.

"Answer the question," he said, accidentally revealing some of his misgivings. Did he really believe he did such things to him? Worse, there was a possibility that he had considered doing these things recently. If it had crossed his mind in the past, he could understand, but now? Arthur couldn't have gone that mad in the span of a day could he?

"So, I take it you are starting to accept that I'm not the Arthur you know?" England replied, exhaling as if expelling some hidden tension. Overall, he seemed more relaxed when he stood. Alfred didn't want to encourage his current line of thought so he shook his head vigorously. Trying to keep the interaction casual, he kept smiling, even if he didn't feel like it right then.

"Actually, I'm humoring you. How long have you been drawing the same circle? You're almost out of chalk," Alfred asked because he wasn't sure how concerned he should be with Arthur's current obsession. He was starting to think that he couldn't fix this on his own. France seemed to know how to deal with it. England frowned; his displeasure intensified by the slant of his eyebrows. Say what they will about his diminished status, anyone could tell right away when the Brit was angry. Whether it had to do with America not believing him or the implied pity of his continued failure, he couldn't know for sure, but it resulted in a sudden stern countenance that America disliked.

" America, quit being a bother and make breakfast," England said as he stretched. America wasn't a maid or the subservient party. If Arthur wanted to draw on the floor, he could, but Alfred would not be bossed around.

"Make it yourself," he said, taking the opportunity to dispose of the bullets. When possible, it was always better to just get rid of a weapon. Of course, the problem was that plenty of people still had them so, it wasn't advice he could readily take. Here, it seemed like the best option. England wasn't concerned, likely because America had yet to try and leave.

"You're the one who insisted on doing things on your own," England argued, and damn, he did know how to make a good point. And, it wasn't so much the actual task that bothered him so he might as well get what he wanted out of it.

"I'll make it if you quit trying to summon the devil or whatever," America said, adding the whatever to cover anything else he might be trying to do. If he really wanted to, he could get some clue from the Wicca community, but he didn't want to. Scary movies made him paranoid enough.

"I would explain again, but it would just go in one ear and out the other," England said, proceeding to pinch the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath before detaching his hand and glaring at him. America wrapped his arm around England's shoulder in an attempt to cheer him up. Surprisingly, he didn't push him away on contact, and instead became rather rigid.

"Come on, this place isn't so bad," he said, despite the less than encouraging signals England was sending.

"Name something I gain by staying here," Arthur replied, finally removing Alfred's arm. America brightened; if he could convince him this reality was worth staying in, he would probably stop insisting that he came from another one.

"Okay, let's say hypothetically you are from another universe," America said, trying to remove any doubt that he might believe him while still broaching the subject. England grit his teeth and clenched his fist.

"I am," he said, keeping a steady gaze. America ignored the Brit's silent hostility and grinned like it was the fourth of July.

"I don't believe you," he said flatly.

"America," England roared. (Okay, so, he might have exaggerated, but it was a harsh and grating way to say his name. He might as well have hocked a loogie while he was at it.)

"From what I've gathered from your rambling, I did not gain independence in your world," he disliked saying it, but if he disregarded the possibility that England had gone mad, maybe, maybe, he could see the possibility of alternate universes. It's not like there wasn't any scientific basis for it. There was schrodinger's cat which allowed the possibility of what ifs, even if he were the dead cat in his universe by the sound of it.

"Correct, now tell me how this is on the plus side," England said, dusting himself off as he noticed white streaks in his suit from the chalk. The powder wasn't easy to remove and added to his grim mood.

"Working on it, give me time to make my point," he said, pointing at him which was a little cheesy but was enough to distract England. He swatted the hand away. Now, he was taking a gamble mentioning it, but if anything he heard drunk England say was true, it might be valid to bring up.

"I imagine that I completely hate your guts there," he said, just thinking about failing at such a pivotal moment made his stomach churn. He felt even more relieved that England hadn't pulled off some of the dark magic he claimed to know. What if he had let him and he succeeded? Would he have ruined his past and therefore, his future?

"Nope, you're actually a complete angel," England smiled smugly, very much in a "ha, I won" way. England must be dreaming. Hell, if he would ever just take losing quietly, he would have made England's life unbearable at least. Or, he had told himself as much in the times he wasn't sure they would make it, especially in the beginning when some of his less experienced men would run from the battlefield. George Washington hadn't been the only one frustrated by that.

"No way I was just okay with it," he said, and just as he thought, there was a flicker of hesitation. He wasn't telling him everything, not that he believed any of this- all hypothetical. Actually, he was starting to believe it a little, maybe. He hadn't slipped up once as far as his story went.

"Not at first but," England said about to make up some excuse. America took advantage of his weakness and pushed forward.

" Forget that, then, am I happy now?"he asked, leaving England (Britannia?) flustered.

"Well, you're healthy and," he tried again. America wouldn't let him go there. A comatose person was technically healthy too.

"Am I happy now?" he yelled, an unknown rage building. His face burned red as a result. What if England had gone crazy and he was making it worse? He shook his head; this was ridiculous. There was no other Alfred.

"You're not unhappy," England finally admitted, and America took a deep breath. He could have dropped the subject, but Arthur had sparked some of his curiosity.

"What am I then?" he asked, secretly berating himself for allowing this to continue. What did it matter? It wasn't real.

"Loud and obnoxious," England drawled, eying him meaningfully. America let out an exasperated sigh.

"I mean over there," he said, only to realize that he should have denied the loud and obnoxious part.

"It's too late to deny the loud and obnoxious part isn't it?" he asked anyway. England smirked. America always thought he enjoyed jibing him a little too much.

"Yes," he said, turning his attention to the transmutation circle.

"Trust me when I say, you are not an improvement. I spent decades fixing you. I do not want to do so again," he said, referring to it as if it were some sort of chore, a necessary repetitive task. Which sounded harmless enough but in context, Britain would have been brainwashing/ torturing him twenty four seven. He shivered, starting to understand there wasn't anything pleasant about the word fix.

"I don't want you to either,"he said, and the rejection while expected or he assumed as much, (Who wanted to be brain washed?) made England grow cold and stern once more. America wasn't overly effected by the change although England was rarely calm around him. His usual attitude ranged from insulting all the way up to the beyond fury level. Honestly, a detached England was interesting if slightly unnerving. What was he thinking?

"Black magic it is then," he said, and Alfred thought he sensed an unspoken "I didn't like you anyway" in there. Maybe, it was just his ego. Actually, that may have been the problem with his original argument. England cared about a lot of things and not all of them made him this frosty.

"Okay, wait. I made the mistake of thinking you actually care about me. How about-" he started to mention Elizabeth's descendants when he was cut off.

"I do care about him," he snapped, and Alfred could not bring himself to let the moment pass. So, Alfred would go along with this alternate universe thing for a little longer so he could understand why that was not okay to say.

"You just told me that you "fixed" him. That's some creepy science fiction shit," he hissed, and England was genuinely surprised by the hostility. Alfred wondered why, until he realized that he rarely let people know he was actually angry at them. Arthur recovered quickly.

" It was just a little discipline," he said, not faltering in his position, no matter how hard Alfred's gaze was.

"I know you. Don't give me that. Frankly, I knew right away what I was getting into- scratch that- I knew what you would do to me if I failed," he said, ready for England to make a comeback with some quip of why that wasn't true. He didn't deny it. He didn't look guilty. England instead seemed angered by the accusation. England headed to the kitchen likely to make his own damn breakfast.

"America, leave me alone. Go ahead, and go to that Quebecian for all I care. You're not my problem," he said, dismissing him. He took out a pan from one of the cupboards. America didn't move; his phone started to ring. He already knew it was Matt wondering why he hadn't come back to the hotel yet. Alfred didn't want him to worry, but he also had a mission to accomplish. Since he didn't know when he could return, Alfred didn't want to leave England like this.

"Come on, England, snap out of it. I can't just leave you when you're making up alternate time lines," he said, absently stuffing his hand in his pocket and sending a text message to Mattie that he was staying until England showed signs of improvement. America was very proud of his texting skills, so much so that he could text without looking at the buttons. (Grammar be damned at that point.)

"Oh, is that so?" England said, taking out some eggs and bread, enough for two. His eyes sparkled from the sun's rays, intensifying the coy nature of his words. Also, his smirk was stale at this point from over use. Mocking him, he was mocking him that annoying Brit. America glared although his position weakened as he read the time on his phone. There was no way he could make it to the airport at this point, even if he broke a few traffic laws. (Roundabouts were murder anyway.) He wasn't going anywhere.

"That is not a license to keep me here," he said, his agitation evident at this point. This did not stop him from getting a plate and cup. His phone beeped. That was quick. After he sat back down, he read Canada's message.

_Good luck Al. _

_ P.s. I've told Francis to check up on you in a few days in case this is actually England texting. _

" But, you said yourself that you won't leave while I'm like this, and well, America, I'm always like this," he said, sitting down next to him. England even had the gall to copy his nonchalant shrug.

"England, stop it," he demanded. Perhaps, he was making too much out of it, but he seemed even more boastful than he usually was.

"Great Britain," he corrected casually. America groaned, pushing his food out of the way so he would be able to hit his head dramatically on the table without getting egg on his face.

"You're not allowed to have more than one mental breakdown per week. It's just not done," he mumbled, pounding his fist on the table for emphasis.

"I keep telling you the truth, but you're too thick to get it. I bet your England only had to tell him once," England said because apparently, not only was Canada and the rest of the commonwealth better kids than he was, so was the alternate him. Fine, he wanted to fight in hypothetical terms. He'd _mastered _it with Russia.

"Then, why hasn't he saved you yet," he pointed out. England stood, crest fallen, or that's how he interpreted the sudden shaking.

"Arthur," he called but he was already out of eyeshot. Things were being shattered or pushed roughly aside in the living room. He'd picked a good place to throw a tantrum, lots of breakable mementos in there. Still, he'd probably regret it later.

"Arthur, I didn't mean to upset you," America shouted as loudly as he could. Smash. Thrash. Flip. Even more pages flipped. More scary chanting. It didn't sound like the same chant. He stood and walked towards the living room. At least, he had consciously only smashed the cheap things.

"Did I tell you you're hosting the Olympics. You must be happy about that,"he said because that was a source a pride for any country. In a sense, it was the best combination of politics/war ever, and good fun was had by all.

"The what?" He stopped suddenly, truly puzzled. No Olympics. He wanted to go to a world with no Olympics. They hadn't ragged him that hard about the lawsuits and mascots had they?

"Come on, I'll stay as long as you want, just stop moping," he said which might not have been the right card to play as he'd all but admitted he was staying anyway. England held up a page so he could read the text.

_Dear Great Britain,_

_ I am aware of the situation. I have set certain conditions as to when you will be able to return._

_ No action is required on your part. I have rigged the spell to return both of you to your rightful place when you are ready. _

_I shall do my best to keep the other empires from finding out your secret in the meantime._

_ Love,_

_ America _

Okay, so, he had been telling the truth all along. He couldn't be blamed for not believing something so ridiculous right? Arthur was muttering I'm sorry to a "fairy" somewhere in the room. America stood behind him awkwardly. What could he say? Sorry, the other me took the opportunity to dump your ass here for a while.

"He's betrayed me. He is the one that didn't want him to leave," he said, and America could sort of understand where Britain was coming from. Canada wasn't the only one who didn't particularly like it when England called Canada, America. Kind of like when his kids put Canadian flags on their backpacks when they traveled, he saw it as replacing him with the good son. Canada saw it as being overlooked.

"Hey, it's not like it's forever ," America said, attempting a fist bump with the unresponsive Britain on the floor. He eventually just put his fist down.

"He didn't even say what the bloody conditions were," England growled, crumpling the letter, yet pocketing it for later reading.

"You wanna go out for drinks?" America asked, knowing on some level he would come to regret this decision. However, it was the only thing he could think of right then. England perked up immediately. He stood and patted America on the back. Something, England only did when drunk these days, the exception being one time in World War II after a nasty dog fight,(not that it was that big a deal.)

"Thank you," he said, and he sounded sincere. So, he braced himself for yet another if different rant about the revolutionary war, War of 1812, WW1, WW2, or of course the whole Falkand Islands debacle. (It wasn't a real war.)

"S-s-stupid Canada, I want to run my own government. You're suppressing my people blah blah blah," England said, making his hands into impromptu puppets. He'd even asked him for a pen to make Matthew's glasses and his eyebrows, both were surprisingly accurate. Honestly, it was nice to hear him complain about someone else for a change. Arthur had his chin and elbows on the bar table staring right ahead; his cheeks were flushed and his words slurred every once in a while, but America could catch most of what he said.

"What are you going to do? Declare your independence? We all know how that went for your brother," he said adjusting himself so he faced America. He almost fell, but America held him steady until he could balance himself. He hiccuped a few times, and continued.

"Just cuz Alfred didn't win doesn't mean you can treat us all like crap, he said" he made his voice into a soft whine, and America had to lean close to hear correctly. He nodded in agreement absently, thinking a kick ass Canada would be cool.

"So, I was like all fine, go on, just try it, I'll squash you like the insignificant hunk of ice you are," he said, pointing at his Canada hand defiantly. Then, Canada bit him? There was a lot of incoherent fighting with his hands, and America had to grab hold of him several times to keep him from falling. Alfred managed to calm him down, and Britain asked for another round. They both ended up with another beer. This was America's second and Britain's third. America wouldn't get another, and Britain would more than likely want more. He seemed rather insatiable went it came to alcohol.

"Let me guess, general winter whooped your ass," America said, taking a swig of his drink. Britain nodded gravely, shivering subconsciously.

"Gets people every time. I don't understand why no one bloody ever learns not to attack the damn cold climates," he yelled, making America laugh. Britain scowled, but America tapped his forehead.

"You did," he reminded him. Britain took a sip of his beer, never ceasing his glare.

"Shut up, Canada," Britain said, and America made a mental note to make a bigger birthday cake for him next year. Ouch.

"Well, that's just awkward. It's America," he corrected, adding some feeble laughter to it so he seemed less depressed. At least, he could pretend that he didn't mean the things he said when he yelled at him most of the time. Not being remembered was a different kind of torture, he wasn't used to it.

" Don't be silly Canada. Alfred doesn't have glasses," Britain said, sounding a bit more chipper as he tapped his glasses. America guessed he wouldn't have Texas let alone much else besides his original states. He took off his glasses, wondering if it would resolve the issue. Britain immediately registered the difference, smiling warmly.

"America, when did you get here?" he said with genuine astonishment. It vaguely reminded him of one of his cartoons. Britain gave him a hug. It was the first time that someone could actually hug harder than he could. America patted his back slowly, somehow feeling even more uncomfortable with the whole thing.

"I think you've had enough," America said while Britain hiccuped again. He was hit with an empty beer glass repeatedly.

"You don't tell me when I've had enough boy, " Britain barked, and it was hard to avoid getting hit with the beer glass while Arthur held onto him. America attempted to pry his arms away but this only led to further suffocation as Britain held on tighter. So, he backed off for his own well being. Although he'd never say it to another country, there had been times when the best strategy against Britain was to run away to fight another day.

"Okay, but only because you're less of a pain to take care of this way, sadly enough," he said, hoping he wouldn't remember this. He normally didn't. Britain let him go, and America breathed deeply. Britain drank more beer, muttering in Gaelic, maybe.

"Out of curiosity, are you still having me grow Tobacco and stuff?" he wanted an idea of how backwards things were, and how he might expect Britain to act while he was here. However, he already had a decent idea. He doubted he would enjoy the next few days? Weeks? He'd have to make a few calls home to explain things.

"No, you wanted to go to the moooon. What is your obsession with the stupid mooon anyway? It's just a giant hunk of rock. Going there once is enough," he said, slicing his hands in the air angrily. So, he, at least, did get to make some technological advancements. By the sound of it, the whole program was funded by Britain which would explain why it was still running space missions.

"I bet that's why Russia started pestering me about you. I bet. I bet. He said, that's son a bitch went to the moooon first. Psht, I'll own his ass," he said, sloshing the beer in front of Alfred's face. Then, he realized in the other world he really was in danger of being owned by Russia. He didn't blame the other him for sticking him with this mess. Alfred could clean him up a bit: swear him off alcohol, make him a little less boorish, and maybe, explain why imperialism sucked. As it stood, the conversation was slowly heading into the "let's talk about every way America screwed me over" territory.

"Okay, we're going now," he said, paying for both of them, seeing as getting England to hand over some notes was more trouble than it was worth. Alfred lifted Britain up, cradling him like a babe to get out faster. Britain didn't particularly struggle as he walked them to the car. He did get a little winded by Britain's weight.

"Am-Ameri-America," he stuttered.

"What is it?" he asked, hearing the hesitation behind the alcohol induced speech impediment.

"Y-yo-you won't leave me for Canada will you?" Britain said, ending with a hiccup. America smiled; Arthur had no idea how impossible that was. How desperate he looked if one were look at his past invitations/ invasions involving Canada. Apparently, while obviously not the same, it was the opposite in the other universe. He had the stubborn mind set that his brother would remain polite no matter the circumstance.

"It's not a problem. Believe me, I've tried to start the whole brother and brother union thing," he said, the disappointment clear although light hearted. He had thought it was the coolest idea ever at the time. Still, no matter what, (Short of a massive disaster) they would remain neighbors.

"Round numbers are better anyway," he muttered. The fifty looked good on that one jacket he had. He'd hate to replace it.

"Or Prussia?" Britain asked, sounding even more insecure. Alfred reminded himself that it was Rome that gave him his abandonment issues, not him. On the bright side, Gilbert still existed there. Good for him.

"He's not a country anymore," he said, followed by a "Right, I keep forgetting" from Britain.

"Or the Nordics?" he asked. America wished he hadn't. He was on pretty good terms with all of them, but that shouldn't matter to Britain much right?

"Uh, we're really good friends," he said, downplaying it as much as possible. It's just he and Denmark were so similar that friendship came naturally. They had a long standing alliance. Many of Norway's people had immigrated to his country in the early years and helped built him up. He was very grateful. Finland was always great company, and their relations remained strong even during WWII when he was on the axis side. Sweden did not always approve of his actions, but they got along well enough most of the time. Their combined energy was infectious. Frankly, they were the closest family he could think of. He was a little jealous of it.

"You damn bastard, just cause you're supposedly related," he drawled bitterly.

"Yeah, I've heard that. I'm okay with it, " he said, although he always thought they preferred Canada. They had more in common. Once in a while, Sweden would insist on being called papa. Since England was never around for this, he usually did.

"Why? Why? I can make Lutefisk," he claimed, and America laughed softly. England had trouble following recipes. He liked to experiment.

"No you can't," he said, at least not as good as the Nordics could make it. Britain clinged harder to him, causing him stop in his tracts. Ow.

"I try and protect you from the damn vultures like China, Russia, and Prussia, but nuh uh, you have to try and be friends," he said, using quotation marks. Friendship was easier, but he'd learned that it was impossible be friends with everyone. Although if he was a colony there, Britain would be the one to deal with their enemies.

"You know, I just kind of like having people who don't completely hate my guts, not that it always works out that way" he said because they did seem to genuinely care for him. Sometimes he felt that it was only politeness that kept him on good terms with Japan and Canada.

"Stu-stup-pid boy, the Nordics just want to-" he started to say but ended up yawning instead of finishing the thought. He put him in the back seat and fastened his seat belt.

"Let it go Arthur. Let it go," he said, patting his back. Britain leaned back on the seat.

"Mhm," he mumbled. America sent a message to Canada and started the car. It went something like this.

_Canada, I'm not crazy, but I'm ninety nine percent sure this isn't our England. _

_He's from a parallel universe. Apparently, he needs to meet a few conditions before he's allowed to return to his world._

_ Alfred_

_ P.s. Believe me_

* * *

><p>"Why do you have a map of Texas on your desk?" England said, looking at the map he'd found taped under the desk. America quickly confiscated the map, blushing furiously.<p>

"Lots of people have maps of places, and those places are usually . . . I," America replied nonsensically. England smiled, somewhat amused. He hadn't realized how personal the fight for Texas had been.

"Are you having relations with Texas?" he asked because perhaps he was mistaken. Territory personifications were rare, but Texas had been it's own country for ten years. It would be long enough to develop it's own identity.

"Well, I need to get food somewhere, and Canada's being a jerk," he said with a huff. Seeming to realize that he'd talked ill of his brother, he stopped. So he'd been trading with Spain's colonies, the amount of tomatoes in the fridge made sense now.

"Then, there's all these acres of fertile land, lots of my people have moved there so um . . . sometimes I cross the fence when Mexico's not looking- never mind, forget what you heard," he said suddenly defensive. He'd been misty eyed before then, staring at the ceiling. He found it rather refreshing. The other America seemed to have two extreme emotions: really happy or really sad. This was a new development to say the least.

"It's not a problem. I just always assumed that it was just you," he said with a shrug. America did not seem to understand this, tilting his head in confusion.

" It is just me," he said which was true as he now consisted of only the original thirteen states.

"Right, are you ready to get started then?" he said ready to leave. Yesterday had been enjoyable enough, but he couldn't leave his country attended by Great Britain who would not know how to deal with their world politics.

"Of course, we could do that,"America said, not enthused by the prospect. He had bits of chalk dust on his sleeve. Had he tried already?

"Is there something else you had in mind?" he asked, and America stared at his dress shoes, grinding his foot into the carpet.

"Well, I don't want the other me to die or anything," he claimed; his eyes purposely wide as he puffed his cheeks. A sweet display but a trap, he knew it was a trap. And against his will, he felt a little lighter knowing he was preferred. He did know himself. Perhaps, it was okay to stick around a little longer. If he hadn't shot him that one time, he'd be unlikely to shoot him for being annoying.

"We have time if you'd like to do something together. He wouldn't shoot him,"Arthur said, and although Alfred tried to keep his face neutral, he winced, touching his heart.

"Actually," he admitted, slowly removing his hand. As much as Arthur cursed Alfred, he didn't want him to get shot and certainly not in such a tender place.

"Circle it is then," he said, heading for the study.

"But,"America said, and England stopped, entranced by that hopeful gaze.

"Yes, Alfred?" he asked, falling for the trap. He knew the question already. He also knew he couldn't. He had to be the adult. The time for selfish acts were over. He couldn't just take what he wanted anymore. There were always consequences.

"Could you stay a little longer?" he said, biting his lip, and it didn't help that it reminded him of Alfred's colonial days. He'd always been charming.

"I can't just let him wreak havoc on my world," he said, and America smiled, a self-satisfied one this time. He was up to something, for real this time. Alfred could leave him there; he realized. _It's what he wants, and he wants me to agree with him. _

"I think staying there a while will be good for him," he replied, seeming to curb the smile when England looked at him disapprovingly. He might not be as strong as the boy, but Alfred's instinct to obey him still was. He lessened the severity of it if only because his mind kept replaying Alfred reaching for his heart.

"Why?" he asked, deciding that once in awhile America's ideas weren't utterly ridiculous.

"You had to learn to think differently didn't you?" he said, measuring his reaction. England was a little self conscious about letting go of most of his empire. It showed.

"I suppose," he said, slow to react. America noticed, and walked closer to him, keeping eye contact, smile growing wider. He took a few steps back.

"And you like spending time with me don't you?" America asked, switching to a tone that England knew as "I'm guilt tripping your ass."

"Yes . . . it's different," he admitted, finding it hard to look away. Alfred slapped his back, just enough to sting.

"Then, you want to stay," he said, and England glared. He didn't like to be pushed around, nor would he let Alfred put words in his mouth. Besides, he wasn't responsible for this world. Who cared if Great Britain took a while to learn his lesson? He could learn it the hard way, just like he did.

"I didn't say that," he said, and America's face fell. Arthur couldn't tell if he was faking it or not. Alfred grabbed some chalk from the shelf.

"Oh, okay, I'll make a few adjustments to the runes then," he said, lifting the carpet which England finally noticed hadn't been there originally. There it was, a transmutation circle, and in the middle of it, a stone. America gently lifted the stone, kissing it, and muttering a few words in Norwegian. He, then, erased a few of the runes and replaced it with other runes. The circle started to glow, and England made his way to it, not thinking much of going through the ritual, until America started to cry.

"America?" he asked, confused. It's not like he was gone forever. Great Britain while different was at his essence still him. America wiped the tears away, muttering a few more words in Norwegian.

"I'm fine, say your wish," America said, attempting to breathe evenly. England didn't want to leave the boy in duress, and there, technically wasn't a hurry.

"I don't want to," England said, immediately causing the runes to lose their magic touch. America blinked, dazed, and the rock in his hands transformed into its original form. England's jaw dropped; so that document still existed.

"The Declaration of Independence, how?" he said, unsure what to make of this development. He'd never tried to make a wish orb before; he'd assumed any old rock would do. That wasn't a rock at all.

"It needed to be something precious, or it wouldn't work," America said, not looking him in the eye. England crouched down and forced him to meet his eyes.

"You didn't have to do that. It is my wish, not yours," England said gravely; he noted the document wasn't intact, many parts were burned or charred beyond repair, only the first paragraph remained completely unscathed. America calmed down as it appeared that nothing was happening for a while yet.

"You don't have anything to give up, England," he reminded him. It's true; he'd brought only himself, and there wouldn't be much of a point going through the ritual if he didn't get to return home. He carefully took the document, and America let him.

"Is this why you were crying?" he asked. Perhaps, bad memories were tied to it, or it may even be Alfred's last security blanket of thoughts he was forced to abandon long ago.

"No. Would you like to try again?" he asked, not elaborating further as he stood. England shook his head. America held his hands behind his back and looked at him sadly.

"I'm sorry I made you feel bad. It sort of felt like I was losing another brother, but you do need to go home," he admitted, and England wished he hadn't asked. He was starting to lose his resolve. Still, something bothered him about it.

"So this doesn't matter to you at all," he said as he held up the document. American stiffened and sighed.

"It's hard to tell why I'm crying anymore. They're just words, " America said, and England slapped him. America immediately kneeled as if it were an involuntary reflex. England withdrew his hand and sat down, urging America to do the same. After tapping the floor a few times, America unfroze, getting the idea. He looked a little embarrassed.

"Sorry," he said.

"No, I slapped you. Be angry," he said, attempting to remember the deadly voice he used to use. He hadn't bothered using it in awhile, no one took it seriously anymore. America was at a loss for what to do. So, he continued to sit there Indian style and not look at him.

"This is your self respect, and I'm going to help you get it back," England said, handing him the document. America took it, a look of recognition passing his features.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal," he started to say, only to reach a burned section that he clearly didn't remember. England could; he could never forget it, and for once, he didn't hesitate to bring it up.

"That they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are," England repeated, only to be cut off by Alfred.

"Life, Liberty, and," Again, he stopped as the last part of the sentence had been burned off as had most of the word liberty for that matter.

"The pursuit of happiness," England finished for him, and Alfred read on while Arthur filled in the blanks. Strangely accepting of this new role, England smiled each time Alfred did.

**Thank you for the lovely reviews. I actually love a lot of things about this chapter, and I hope you do too. **


	5. Where I Stand

Where I stand

England could not find America in the morning. This puzzled him as he normally was in the kitchen or living room during this time of day. He searched, unsure what to really do. Arthur had made a big promise to him, one that could not be fulfilled in a matter of days. Perhaps, it wasn't even something advisable in their current political climate. The people that did want America free, probably only wished for it in order to weaken Great Britain although he couldn't really gage how it would effect his/Britannia's empire. America from what he had observed seemed a key strategic point for many countries for whatever reason. So, he might have been hasty to make such a bold declaration. England did not regret his words but steps must be taken to insure America did not get swallowed up by another empire, assuming that the boy did want freedom. Well, of course, he wanted freedom, but he had refused it. The reasons while hazy to his ill informed mind seemed summed up by one of America's past declarations, "I do not want you to crumble." The time had come to get a better idea of where the British Empire stood in its power and prestige.

England wandered for a good while, growing frustrated by the many halls on the first floor. He used paintings and such to mark where he was, yet he still managed to find himself in the same place more than once. The only relief from the never ending hallways/guestrooms came in the form of a wooden spiral stairway hidden away in the corner of one such labyrinth. The stairs seemed to stay together due to the position of the wood , a metal center reinforced the structure while the metal railway hung loosely to the left of the path. England walked up the steps finding one solitary straight route forward, much to his relief. The decor was plain compared to the rest of the house, dark, as if wanting to stay hidden. Several times, he found himself turning around, and vaguely, he recalled charms that made people do just that. However, England was schooled in such tricks and muttered his own counter-spell to pass. After turning the corner of this oddly fortified space, he stopped, somewhat inappropriately paranoid. Four weeping angels stood in front of the door, staring at one another, fangs bared. The only way to gain access to the door would be to move them so their eyes would no longer be on each other. Technically, if a tv show could be believed, they would be able to move once again if a constant vigil wasn't kept by either the statues or himself. Arthur, while aware of the difference between fact and fiction, did not want to risk it.

"America, are you there?" He must be, or England would not have been compelled to go this far. He heard footsteps coming closer, and the door slid open a crack. Arthur glimpsed one eye look him over and half a smile taunt him from the safety of the barrier.

"You're afraid of these things too? I suppose ordering replicas of the weeping angels was a good call on my part. It makes hiding things easier," America said, before closing the door. So, this explained how he could possibly keep such a forbidden artifact as the declaration of independence in his possession for so long. (How he managed it before the invention of Doctor who, he had no idea.) England began to mutter curses at him for shutting him out but became distracted as America's footsteps became distant. He waited, expecting him to return to the doorway eventually. Alfred tapped his shoulder lightly. England turned, seeing no definite way that was possible, until he remembered Alfred was versed in magic. England wondered if there were other places he had missed in his initial searching. He reasoned that the only reason he found this particular place was because America had let him be aware of its existence as he had done with the magic runes beforehand.

"Didn't you just admit on preying on my superstitious nature? Why didn't you just move the statues?" he asked as wasting energy on transporting such a short distance was frivolous, even for Alfred. His eyes darted to each angel quickly before calmly circling them to make sure Arthur hadn't moved them. He didn't blink the entire time either. England smirked; America could be such a fraidy cat. Not that he blamed him, he'd taken pleasure scaring the boy when he misbehaved. He'd been extremely thorough with his gory tales. Unfortunately, while Alfred did scare easily, he enjoyed the stories Arthur told, and often asked him to tell him another.

"Better safe than sorry, some creatures do owe their existence to human belief you know," he said which was true enough, so England didn't comment. America turned to him, sporting a playful grin.

"Anyway, you were looking for me?" he asked, remarkably chipper, not quite radiating confidence as the Alfred in his world did, but he appeared to have relaxed now that England was staying. He promised, and he shouldn't have. Could he really handle living here for years if it came to that? He obviously wouldn't be able to stay with America the whole time, not if he wished to remain an empire. If he became part of this world, he may connect to this place and sever ties in his own world, and there may be no coming back from that. He wouldn't be England anymore after all.

"Yes, um, about yesterday," he said, faltering as America watched him with rapt attention. The boy hadn't hung on his every word since he was a child. England had trouble looking at him directly. A trust had been developed and if he broke it now... he might crush any chance the boy had of recovering from his subjugation. Alfred's expression shifted into a delicate frown when his phone suddenly buzzed. He took it from his pocket and began to type at lighting speed. Arthur observed with mild fascination how Alfred could always text as if he were typing on a regular keyboard. England while decently capable of handling these new phones always had a horrible time typing on them, often growing frustrated enough to leave a word or two misspelled, (something Alfred always teased him about.)

"We don't have time to talk about that today. I just got a message from Denmark. The Nordics are coming over, and there are certain things you need to be aware of," America said, professional attitude returning. The abrupt seriousness on his face worried Arthur, the Nordics were well off in his world, but they couldn't have that much of a pull in this imperial world could they? They liked their shores, and more often than not bothered each other rather than outside parties.

"Like what?" he asked as America grabbed his hand instead of replying. There was a brief weightlessness and a glimpse of magical energy as colorful as the cosmos before he found himself stumbling into a new room, the one Alfred spent so much time and energy hiding from Britannia. He steadied himself and panted lightly. America smiled, sitting himself down before rearranging papers on his desk, old letters by the looks of it. Thomas Paine's Common Sense was sitting there as well; the pamphlet opened to a certain page. He'd been making himself busy this morning; although by the dust hovering in the air, this wasn't a regular occurrence. When America did not bother to look up, England turned his attention to the rest of the room. The first thing he noticed was the painting of George Washington, one that should have burned with the White House and had annoyingly survived. (America bragged about it enough for the irritation to be fresh.) It shouldn't exist at all here, yet there were key differences that he did not notice at first glance. His garb consisted of military attire still although the uniform appeared dulled and worn from repeated battles, and his surroundings while still ornate clearly depicted London tastes. While the man stood erect with the same calm serene look, he faced the window where the gallows were clearly visible. With one of his chained hands, he loosely gestured to the table where a paper with the words never forget were written in elegant script. Behind the note were books whose titles consisted of several well known revolutionary phrases from "Give me liberty or give me death" to "Join or die." (Melodramatic twit, no wonder all the sane people moved to Canada afterwards.)

There were two flags on each side of the painting, both of similar design. The first had the thirteen stripes, but had the union jack in the upper left corner instead of the eventual stars. The other was the later flag used as they became more distant from each other with the thirteen stars. Besides these things, America appeared to be protecting ideas. He saw the work of Montesquieu, Voltaire, and Russeau among the literature. England could not quite understand as he saw these perfectly preserved things around America how he had become so subdued.

"Do you look at these things often?" he asked, and upon hearing his voice, he tensed, before remembering who he was actually talking to. He took a deep breath and met his eyes, before shrugging.

"No, there isn't much of a point," Alfred answered honestly, looking grimly at a rejected sketch of the flag on the right side of the room of a thirteen piece snake, the phrase join or die underneath likely bringing back unpleasant memories.

"Then why keep any of it at all?" he asked which confused Alfred as he had been singing quite a different tune the day before. Alfred stood, walking over to the flag with the thirteen stars, touching the corner of it carefully.

"I just like knowing these things are here. That's all," he said, letting the cloth slip from his fingers.

"But you came here today,"England nudged, hoping to see definite signs of change. He'd always progressed faster than the rest of them; perhaps, he wouldn't need to stick around as long as he thought. America hesitated, taking interest in anything but England at the moment.

"I had trouble sleeping the night before. So, I," America started to say before the phone buzzed once more. He looked at the message and slapped his forehead.

"Right, I just came back in here to put the declaration back, and I thought you might want to- never mind, I'll give you the rundown of everything you need to know downstairs, " he said, pulling his arm gruffly, before flickering out of existence for a second. His back hit the wall hard, and England grumbled un-intelligibly at yet another rudely executed transport. The trip wasn't over apparently as America grabbed his hand again, and this time England landed on the couch in the living room while Alfred reclined on his easy chair comfortably. England positioned himself into a more respectable position on the couch. America lifted his finger.

"One, the only reason you did not lose a considerable amount of land in WW2 (other than your brother's lands) was because the Nordics backed you up, and you, in turn, defended them from Russia and Prussia, both of which have a nasty habit of invading their lands," America said in one breath, anxiously diverting his attention to the door every so often. It was a lot of information to process, but that fact had nagged at him since he first heard that he'd ended up on the Axis side (if it was even called that here.) Generally, the amount of land a country owned shrunk when defeated, but the Nordic's involvement in his- Britannia's life made more sense now.

"Okay, that's seems like a good thing. So why would that be a problem now?" Perhaps, he did not have the most trustworthy allies in his corner all the time, but if they had equal representation in his land, he must have at least respected them. America looked down, suddenly bothered, as he began to scratch his neck.

"Lately, you've been charging a protection tax to the Nordics in order to pay off the war reparations you owe China," he said in a clear if low voice. Their spat over taxes fresh on his mind from previous readings likely.

"Wait, I'm the one that owes China money here? That doesn't even make any sense, his country wasn't technologically advanced enough at that time to be much of an influence on anyone," he said, annoyed that he shared this in common with America, albeit in much more extenuating circumstances. He absently stood and cleared the coffee table, glancing at the door once more. England's eyes narrowed; he never bothered to clean when he came over, but that wasn't much of an issue; he reasoned, considering America paid others to do so for him. (So it was only ever dirty when he stopped by unexpectedly.) He shook his head, no; it wasn't the same while still Alfred, he could not become attached to this Alfred(more than he already was.) America had different loyalties and obligations here, and he likely did clean before Great Britain came over as well.

"Actually, you originally owed it to Russia, but sometime later, when Yao's country started to prosper, you thought China would be a fair lender. It seemed like a good idea considering you were surrounded by your communist brothers to avoid Russia's influence all together, but, " America stopped rambling suddenly. He noted Alfred took special care not to ever say anything that could be construed as bad mouthing another country.

"He became a lone shark?" England guessed, seeing as Yao excelled at money manipulation.

"Yup," he said, making a popping sound when he reached the p. Checking the time on his phone, he continued, the interruption not planned.

"Main point, do not let Denmark bring up the tax. They've been thinking of breaking off the union with you for a while, and you cannot afford to ease up on the payments," he said, and England could imagine missing a payment could result in losing part of his empire, particularly in Asia. However, he hadn't expected the Nordics to have such a pull in Britain's life.

"Wait, didn't you say I conquered Greenland? I assumed," he said before Alfred cut him off with a look that said "You think you rule everything, do you? That's cute."

" Yes but not the rest of the Nordics, you only made Greenland the representative of the Nordics because you had some influence on him. Not to mention, you wanted to piss off Denmark," America said as he crossed his arms.

"Ah," England said as all of that sounded like something he might do. America looked at the door one more time before sighing.

"We might be able to get away with hiding you since they're only here to check up on me," he said, turning to him and offering his hand. England stared at him, not liking the idea of being hidden away as if he were some forbidden pet.

"Why is that?" he asked, curious of America's association with the Nordics here. His tone implied something along the lines of a parent child association from his exasperation. He didn't like it.

"As much as you would have liked sticking around and making sure I behaved, you couldn't all the time. So, you've had a loose agreement with them to care for me in exchange for certain perks long before the official union," America said, becoming impatient enough to grab his hand. England didn't move.

"Oh, well, I don't think hiding will be necessary," he said, unlatching his hand which wasn't to difficult as America cooperated and let go. The boy took a few steps backwards and pushed two of his fingers together.

"But," he started to say. England waved his hand around carelessly and stood, adjusting his ruffled suit.

"Come now, I will be sticking around for a while right? I'll need to learn how to handle myself eventually. I might as well practice with allies instead of rivals correct?" he said, keeping eye contact with the boy, displaying a look that he hoped showed his resolve. America let his shoulders sag and pouted in protest.

"I suppose," he admitted, before becoming determined. He straightened again and leaned in close.

"Okay, well, hopefully they're not in a hurry to get here so we can," he started to say before the door bell cut him off. He muttered a curse before switching to a pleasant countenance. He held his hands behind his back and over all seemed to shrink in stature when Denmark came in. The man hadn't noticed him, focusing his attention on Alfred as he held his case of beer proudly. England frowned, so much for his parent-child theory.

"Hey Alfred, I know you're probably still all stressed out about Britain's visit a few days ago so we brought alco-chocolate milk because you're not allowed to have-," he said, quickly hiding the beer when he noted his presence. England smirked. _Good, he better have sense enough to be afraid. _

"Hello Denmark," he cut him of off.

"Hey Britain," he said sheepishly, handing his purchases to Finland who promptly made the trip to put them back in the car. Norway stepped forward as Sweden stood behind them, arm around a younger country that looked to be about ten. Iceland perhaps? Ruling countries was still the norm here, he might not have grown as fast as a result.

"Norway," he said, equally reserved. Norway smiled coldly, dropping the temperature in the room with his aura.

"Arthur," he said, and Denmark laughed in attempt to hide the thinly veiled hostility. England wondered if he had addressed him wrong when the child behind Sweden finally stepped forward.

"Alfred!" The boy shouted, running at Alfred who crouched down and held his arms open to embrace him.

"Greenland! How is my little kidnaped part of North America?" he said, ruffling the boy's hair. Denmark approached the two, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. The room got colder.

"What was that?" he asked America who laughed nervously and held his hands up in surrender.

"Nothing Denmark, nothing," he said, proceeding to whistle innocently. Denmark's attitude immediately improved, once he knew America was kidding. He turned to England with a cocky smirk, prominent in war loving countries.

"We would have brought Iceland with us, but we figured America is a decent babysitter," he said, ruffling America's hair. Alfred beamed, holding up Greenland appraisingly who kicked his feet childishly in the air. He wore a dark brown fur coat and equally furry cream colored pants, and his dark complexion made his joyful large green eyes stand out more. Overall, a darling kid, England decided.

"You kids go play. The adults are going to talk," Denmark said, and America did not react negatively to the comment and instead carried Greenland to the couch. England watched, forgetting Norway's hostile glances as he had only seen America act similarly with Sealand.

"Like I said, how are you?" America asked, and the child smiled showing off sparkly white teeth.

"Okay, pappa Denmark has been helping out with some subsidies while I get on my feet," he said, and America nodded attentively. He made sure Denmark was busy talking to Norway and Sweden before lowering his head to whisper to the child.

"That's good, but you can always come live with me," he said, and the child did not look afraid or thrilled, but simply frowned, taking out a whistle.

" Pappa Denmark said to blow this whistle if you try to annex me," he said, taking a deep breath, about to blow said whistle. America confiscated the whistle and Greenland attempted to retrieve it, starting to whine.

"Never mind, forget I said anything," America amended quickly, giving the whistle back once Greenland nodded. America positioned the kid on his lap, and he didn't seem to mind the attention, treating America as an extension of the couch as he huddled closer.

" So, how has everyone been?" America asked, stroking his hair.

"Good, Sweden and Finland are talking again," Greenland responded, and America seemed a bit surprised but accepted the news.

"That's nice to hear," he said, and England did not realize that he'd zoned out at the conversation happening in front of him till Denmark tapped his forehead.

"You know England when we said the adults needed to talk that does include you," Denmark teased, and England nodded, before remembering America's words of caution.

"I don't see why we can't just relax a while since everyone's here," he said, gesturing to the kitchen with one hand and outside where the cherry blossoms boomed beautifully with the other. Finland returned in time to hear the suggestion, about to agree when Sweden whispered something to him. England was not reassured when he heard, oh, we're doing that today?

"No, Britain you're not talking your way out this," Denmark said, folding his arms. England sighed and waited. Maybe they weren't planing what he thought? He noticed America run after Greenland who had left the room, only then did Denmark start to talk. It seemed planned which made England tense. America wouldn't be able to bail him out if the conversation took a turn for the worst as he had before.

"Now England, we had a nice thing going for a while, but lately we don't really seem to mesh well," Denmark said, attempting to illustrate his point by tangling his fingers together, failing to make them fit properly while making space noises. Norway covered his face, ashamed of the display from what he could tell. Sweden smirked while Finland forced a smile.

"Are you breaking up with me?" He finally outright said it after a few minutes of this. Denmark immediately untangled his hand and held them out as if that would keep him from blowing a gasket.

"Hey, it's okay, sometimes alliances don't work out. We want different things," he said, attempting to sound sympathetic. Norway recovered from Denmark's foolish display, and glared at England.

"And, you've been a jerk," he added as Sweden and Finland nodded behind him.

"That too," Denmark admitted, pointing to Norway. Most of them didn't seem overly angry with him, maybe he could make some allowances that Great Britain wasn't prepared to make, if only he knew what they actually wanted.

"Perhaps, we can working something out? There must be things we can still do for each other," he asked, and the Nordics looked at one another. Denmark cleared his throat.

"Well, that's the thing," he said, stopping to take several brief cases from Sweden and stack them on the coffee table.

"We have a lot of money saved up," Denmark said, tapping the brief cases to make his point.

"So, Sweden thought of something," he said, and Sweden stepped forward only to have Finland take over.

"We've heard you were going to give poor little America to Russia. He's a scary dude. Sure, he helped me get industrialized and," Finland started to trail off, and Denmark alarmed at were the conversation was heading, opted to serve as their public speaker again.

"Without getting off track, I'll get to the point. Since America's up for sale, we'd like to propose a counter offer," Denmark said, and England wasn't comfortable making this decision. He wished America would come back already.

"We'll pay off your debt to China, and you give us America instead," Denmark finished, and England decided to go with his gut instinct.

"No, thank you. While Russia's offer is generous, I will not be accepting it. That goes for your offer as well," he said, and while they looked relieved that Britain wasn't taking Russia's offer, they did not remove their offer from the table.

"Don't you think it would be better to give him to us than go through another costly war?" Norway said, and England blanched, knowing this might be the case yet isolated enough to question their claim. Still, would America be any happier with them? Or was his restlessness due to being caged for so long? Would a bigger cage really help?

"We're bailing you out, pal," Denmark said, and England shook his head. No, he could not change his mind, especially without consulting America first. Arthur did hope they were bluffing, having people rebel while he was more or less in charge of Britannia's affairs would complicate things.

"Pappa Sweden is displeased."

England glared, first, it was the whole America being Prussia's brother thing and now this? Who chased him down when he needed a bath, dammit? These people needed to stop making these ridiculous claims.

"Shh, America told you not to say that in front of him," Finland whispered, but England still heard it. So, America could cater to everyone quite easily it seemed. He definitely did so on purpose. It would explain why Britain's hold on America wasn't singular; it's the best protection Alfred had against him. He wondered to what extent Great Britain knew of these things.

"Guys, you said you'd let us do the talking," Denmark complained, and before the conversation could deteriorate further, England took the opportunity to bring Alfred back into the living room.

"America, get in here," he yelled, trying to sound cross. It wouldn't due for the Nordic's to think Great Britain had gone soft.

"See, you got him in trouble," Finland whined, and Sweden shook his head. America had already begun his journey back into the living room. He covered his eyes and walked around as Greenland wandered around the room.

"Where's the Selkie? Where's the Selkie? There's the Selkie," he said, finding the boy behind the couch. Greenland giggled.

"You're silly Alfred," he said, and America exaggerated his frown.

"I told you to call me uncle Alfred," he said, pointing to himself.

"But I'm related to Canada, not you," Greenland said with a dead panned expression. America smiled, grabbing the kid and giving him a noogie. Greenland squealed and attempted to squirm out of his grip.

"You're a cruel kid aren't ya?" he said, and England couldn't hear Greenland's muffled reply very well.

"America," he said again, and this time America heard him. He put Greenland down who ran back to Denmark. America sighed, but slipped into a neutral mask.

"Oh, yes Great Britain?" he said, and England almost ruined their cover by looking surprised but recovered, attempting to appear as grouchy and gruff as he possibly could. It wasn't hard at all as it turned out.

"Would you like to join the Nordics?" he asked casually. The group behind him was not expecting this, and Finland openly gasped. England supposed Great Britain didn't ask people before acting. He didn't break character however, frowning and showing that no, he did not want America to say yes. It seemed like a ploy he might pull.

"What?" America said, agape, registering the comment slowly. Norway stepped forward and hugged him. Alfred accepted the hug, even hugging back but failed to respond to the actual question.

"Big brother Norway is going to save you from Russia," he claimed, and the temperature seemed to drop again although it was coming from Sweden this time. Denmark stepped in.

"Hey, it was Sweden's idea, Norway,"Denmark reminded him which helped diffuse the situation slightly. England rubbed his hands together; they should really not use magic for such bothersome things.

"Oh, let him have this one, you know how Iceland is about the big brother thing," Finland said as he tugged on Sweden's jacket, (mentioning Iceland did not help the temperature of the room as Norway became a little depressed at the comment. ) America finally recovered and released himself from Norway's grip.

"Erm, while I appreciate the sentiment, I think Great Britain would like to talk to me alone for a minute," he said, and Norway nodded, attempting to fix his hair. America cradled the tuft of hair that he deemed Nantucket protectively. Norway smiled, and relented, returning to the group. America grabbed his hand and England followed, momentarily forgetting to appear grouchy. As they left, Denmark shouted.

"Remember, snippy criticisms aren't pent up expressions of love. Try to get out while you still can."

Alfred rolled his eyes and ignored this. America led him into the hallway, placing them far enough away to not be seen but close enough to hear the conversation, now that they believed both of them were out of the room.

"We agreed we were going to be friendly about this," Finland said, disapproving of Norway and Denmark's forceful insistence. America's face remained passive, but his lips twitched slightly.

"Russia, no good," Sweden said, and America frowned. England was sure that wasn't something the boy wanted to hear right then.

"No one under Russia's rule seems to be complaining," Finland said, and everyone grew quiet.

"Yeah, but you know why," Norway finally said.

"He's scary," they all said at once. America heard enough, leading England further into the labyrinth of hallways until he was sure they could not be heard. Then, he had them enter a random guest room which while still nice was plain and not tailored to a specific guest.

"Yes America," he said, once Alfred closed the door. He did not turn to face him and instead pounded the door.

"What part of not letting the conversation go to taxes didn't you understand? You know how hard it is to stay on everyone's good side?" he snapped; his clenched fist shaking. England stayed calm. Although he could admit that diving head first into Britain's politics had been foolish, he had no idea how to talk himself out of things when he wasn't aware of the entire situation.

"Well, they jumped right to dissolving the union and offering to buy you. Would you like that?" he asked, because he was curious. Alfred seemed to care about them, at least. America froze, again not looking him in the eye and instead concentrating on his reflection in the mirror.

"Umm. . . I . . . I'm not sure," he said, and his reaction while uncertain was enough to assure him that he made the right decision. Everyone's sudden interest in America bothered him. It was one thing when it was just France fighting him all the time, but it seemed a good majority of the countries had set their sights on America.

"Why the hell does everyone want you anyway?" he said, sounding more agitated than he planned. America noticed Greenland's muddy palm print on his white suit and smiled, taking a picture of it with his phone. He didn't bother to clean it and turned to England, still in the process of thinking up what to say. Finally, he snapped his fingers as if the answer had suddenly been dropped on his lap.

"There are a couple of reasons, but the Nordics specifically want me to join them so they have some leverage against Prussia," he said, sounding irritated. He'd seen the two interact, and while they got along well, he didn't think Prussia would allow himself to be manipulated. He did what he wanted and befriended who he wanted, no matter what common sense might dictate.

"Why would you be good leverage against Prussia?"he asked, and America seemed surprised and gave him a look that said "You haven't been paying attention have you?"

"I'm his Bruder," he said, but as far as England was concerned that title was meaningless when countries were involved; it was just a formality, even if there was a time he might have thought differently.

"Didn't you tell me a few days ago that you're everyone's brother," he challenged, and yet, America remained confident.

"Yes but Prussia is particularly protective. The person who has me is practically guaranteed an alliance with Prussia," he said, and England thought back to Prussia's visit. He had assumed that Gilbert was being rash when he said he would join forces with America. Arthur suddenly felt sick as he realized he was dead serious. (It was just hard to tell the way he carried himself.)

"I see. Well, America, since I am here, you have the opportunity to make some decisions for yourself. I will go along with anything you want," he said, seeing as this was the best opportunity Alfred had of gaining independence peacefully. Really, he was doing Great Britain a favor; while stronger, Great Britain had enough obligations that fighting America would not be easy. A war was like a painful thorn stuck to his palm; it would eventually infect and weaken him if not treated properly.

"I'm glad, but Great Britain will eventually return. I don't want him to be completely screwed over when he comes back," America said, again rejecting an opportunity to be free like it was nothing. England would have to break him of the habit. He would never be free if he continued to be so accommodating.

"Why? You should hate him," England said, and America raised an eyebrow, chuckling a little. England frowned; he must have expected too much to assume that he would see a flicker of anger hidden somewhere beneath the careful act. It had been two hundred and thirty five years, anger faded, no matter how justified.

" I'm surprised you'd say that," he said, puzzled; the question "Do you want me to hate you?" present in his eyes.

"We may be the same person, but we are not the same. He's taken everything too far," he argued , but America only shook his head, flicking the union jack on his coat as if it suddenly bothered him that it was there.

" He's my brother. While he may do things that I don't agree with," he said, trailing off as he realized that he'd let something slip that he'd rather not say out loud, never out loud. England chose to use this as an exercise to try and get America to be less reserved.

"Like what?" he asked, waiting. America shifted uncomfortably, straightening his captain's hat.

"I'm sure you're aware," he said doggedly. Arthur frowned, who knew it would ever be this hard for Alfred to practice free speech.

"It's time to say these things out loud," he said, and Alfred's eyes glazed, growing clouded, and he trembled, absently clutching his chest. He shook his head, taking slow deep breaths, before removing his hand.

"I can't think of anything," he replied. Arthur didn't buy that for a minute, not after that display. England crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows, which was usually enough to make people back off when he was in a particularly foul mood.

"You just said that he did things you don't agree with," England said, and America headed to the door instead of responding.

"Look, we don't have time for this. It's time to do some damage control," he said, opening the door with a twist of the knob, resulting in a quick click.

"Fine. What do you suggest?" England said, knowing that he should fix what he let break before attempting to undo years of censorship. America was pleased by his cooperation, patting his back so he could barely feel it. Then, he went into deep thought for a moment; his entire face scrunched up in concentration, before easing into his usual calm.

"Say, you'll allow them to trade with Canada again. That should smooth some things over, and say, you're concerned over the stability of my government, and you would not want my economy to falter due to a change in management, " he said, and England wasn't sure if it was enough. They would likely reap great rewards trading with Canada, but if they left, couldn't they trade with Canada anyway?

"Are you sure that will work?" he asked as Alfred knew this place better than he did.

"Yes, Denmark's bluffing. He's scared of Russia, and he's banking on getting an alliance with Canada and Prussia by adding me to their union. They won't defect without me," he said; the politics simplified to the bare essentials. This boy knew how to survive. Since he could not become self reliant, he'd embraced being helped by others. So, he was sure now that Great Britain definitely would not have expected his betrayal at all. This America was too careful for that, and England would have to keep that in mind as well. This was not the boy he raised; he'd grown up differently, and he could not expect his love to be unconditional, because it wasn't. _I will call you papa when it suits me. I will call you Bruder if you defend me. I will not join you, brother because I cannot manipulate you; you manipulate me. And last of all, I will love you if you stay._ And, he felt all the more trapped as he realized this pattern.

"Alright, I'll trust you," he said as he did not have a better idea, and so far, all of America's plans had been sound. Alfred nodded in approval and walked into the hallway, gesturing for him to follow. England didn't come out of the room; America turned, looking at him questioningly.

"If I wanted to leave, would you let me?" he asked, and America smiled a secret smile before turning his back on him.

"Of course," he said, but Arthur could fill in the rest of the sentence, "But you don't want to right now, so it's not a problem." England followed anyway.

"Hello everyone," England said in greeting. They all sat on the couch, and raised their heads to acknowledge him. America walked over to Finland and Sweden, grinning proudly when Finland commented how clean the place was.

"Have you decided?" Denmark asked, seeming to take America walking over to Sweden and Finland instead of staying near Great Britain as a good sign.

"I will not be selling America. He is just a boy, and thriving well enough under my rule. Since his people have become restless as you've pointed out, it would be unwise to change who manages him and possibly disturb his economy," he said, making both Denmark and Norway frown, while simultaneously seeing he did have a point. England let his eyes flutter close briefly before continuing.

"However, I would like to keep our union in tact. If I must, I will lift restrictions concerning trade with Canada," he said, and Greenland immediately looked up from where he was playing on the floor.

"We can see Uncle Matt again?" he said. Denmark and Norway whispered to each other before replying to the boy.

"Yes, Greenland, looks like," Norway said reluctantly. England wanted a straighter answer than that.

"Of course, if you still plan to leave, I won't stop you," England said, and he could see America stiffen but manage to keep his composure as they continued to discuss music, commenting idly that his kids had taken a liking to some of the Swedish bands.

"I guess since America isn't going anywhere. We'll withdraw our complaint for now," Denmark said and the tension left America's shoulders. He turned so he faced the whole group, smiling, and like the passive face he used on Britain, he could tell it was just an act, albeit a convincing one.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" he asked, and at this suggestion, Greenland immediately took something out of his pocket and presented it with both hands to America.

"I got you a fish," he said and America took the large frozen fish gladly.

"He caught it himself," Norway mentioned, and America cooed and awed as one does with children when given a gift.

"Ah, thanks lil bro, I'll put it on the grill later," he said, ruffling his hair, and it brought back memories, some new and some old of America and himself doing similar things. Scotland had usually begrudgingly accepted his offerings, grumbling that it wouldn't be enough to feed a small fox let alone their whole household, and when he'd brought back bigger game, Scotland would scold him for hunting such large game on his own. Even when he did everything right, Wales and Ireland would get the credit for bringing in food. With America, he had been much more lenient. England remembered how it felt to feel dejected at a failed present, to the point that he'd been willing to eat a piece of mud cake to spare the boys feelings. (He'd spit it out when the boy wasn't looking.)

"Don't bother cooking little brother; we brought edible food," Norway said as Sweden and Finland brought some dishes in. America nodded, ruffling Greenland's hair once more before heading to the kitchen to put the fish away. Denmark set the table while Norway equalized the portions. Greenland dug in as soon as Norway fixed him a plate. Sweden and Finland sat down, and waited for the others to join them before eating. America did not go join them at the table right away and instead went to the living room. England followed America who was in the process of putting away Greenland's toys in a chest near the window.

"So, they're okay with it?" England asked, feeling that it had been too easy to pacify them. America held the toy seal up, looking at the tag, frowning, the words "from Canada," troubling him.

"Told you they have more to lose leaving than staying," he said, putting the seal away after glaring at it for a moment.

"Are you sure it's just not because they care about you that they dropped the subject?" he asked as England had noticed that the moment it became clear America would be going nowhere was the moment they backed down.

"There's always another reason England. No one does things just to be kind. I'm sure you didn't just adopt me because you were looking for a little brother," he said and perhaps, being a carefully controlled commercial commodity for so long had jaded him somewhat. England decided that it was best not to lie. He'd seen Spain boasting about his respective colonies, and he'd wanted the wealth associated with such endowers. It was rather ironic that one of his first successful colonies in North America had been volunteers wanting to get away from him and be free. He should have seen the future coming really when the seed had been planted so early in the boy's life.

"No but I never regretted it," he said, and America looked outside, pressing his hand against the window.

"Even after," he started to say.

"Especially after, he might be a pain ninety percent of the time, but he's become something greater than I could have possibly imagined," he said, and he had proven him wrong at every turn.

_No Alfred, you can't go to the moon. It's impossible._

_ No Alfred, they'll never be a faster way to keep in touch._

_ You'll just have to wait for my letters._

_ No Alfred, you can't pick your bosses. You're stuck with whoever God gives you. _

_ No Alfred, you can't survive without me. You are nothing. _

"I'm sorry that I can't be," he said, and England felt a little guilty for making him feel inadequate. This Alfred had his own strengths. He'd never meant to imply that he was inferior to the America he knew.

"You still can," he said, and America leaned his head against the window. His shallow breath creating a hazy fog on the surface of the glass. He drew some stars that quickly disappeared as the surface dried. He frowned in response, continuing the process.

"I don't know where to start. I've lost the people who believed in me," he said, and that couldn't be true. Even if the people considered themselves British subjects, they always took the side that would benefit them more; some people must be willing to fight for him. People defended their lands long before the nationalism movement became popular.

"Certainly, your people still," he said, and America wiped away his newly made stars.

"He hung them," he said, sitting down on the toy chest.

"Oh, that," England said; he'd figured that had happened, but he hadn't taken into consideration that the people who made America who he was in his world were long dead.

"I can't tell you what they came up with if you'd like," he said as he had no idea if the people in America now could come up with a similar concept, and the constitution was a solid piece of work, regardless of America's current political polarization.

"That may not be the best idea England. There's no guarantee that the government I have over there will work well in this environment," he reasoned, but Canada seemed to be thriving as a republic. Surely America could do the same?

"So, you don't want to know what your founding fathers wrote?" he said, and this struck a cord in the boy who eyed the kitchen area before standing.

"When they leave," he decided, but England wouldn't make it so easy. He had leverage now, and he would use it.

"I have a condition," he said. America frowned, seeming like he might withdraw his previous interest in knowing, but England had him and Alfred knew it. He let his shoulders slump.

"But I didn't even want to," he whined, but England ignored him.

"You have to complain," he said, and America narrowed his eyes, towering over him instead of letting himself shrink as he did when in others company.

"You're being annoying," he said flatly.

"About something Great Britain's done to you," he finished, and America tried; his expression changing every couple of seconds before growing hopeless.

"I . . . Everything's fine. Let's go. They're waiting for us," he said, and England gave up for now. They did have company over, and it might compromise their previous agreement if they saw signs of America undermining him.

"Very well, may I ask why you find it so hard to speak your mind?" he asked, and America halted, messing with his hair. He stopped and picked up a photo of Great Britain and him standing side by side, both extremely stiff. The only real sign of affection was America putting his arm around Britain's shoulders.

"Because I know Great Britain will return someday, and he may not change for the better," he said, and while it relieved him that the boy accepted that he couldn't stay indefinitely, he caught the doubt present in his voice. America put the picture back in its proper place.

"So, you do not want to live free," Arthur said, and America turned, the pitifully small excuse for a smile showing.

"If I have go into a cage right after," he said, starting to walk again as it appeared their conversation had come to a close.

"Well, you mentioned that you've set some conditions for his return last night. Perhaps, it will ease your fears if we discuss them," he said, and America nodded.

"He has to smile," he said, and while he did not doubt that smiling would be hard for his other self to do, he feared the boy's naivety. A smile did not make everything better.

"That's awfully simple. You risked your whole future on that?" he said, but America shook his head.

"Like I've said before, it's not the only condition. Besides, it has to be a genuine smile," he said, defending his choice. Arthur was glad that he wasn't being meek, but he also felt that the boy was being unrealistic. If he was going to cross someone like Britannia, he had better make sure Great Britain actually learned something on his trip rather than simply have his anger fester for who knows how long.

"That's easy to fake," Arthur said, and America grinned.

"My magic will know the difference," he said, and England decided to drop it. Alfred did say that there was more to it than that, and could he really be blamed for wanting his guardian to actually feel true joy before returning?

"And?" he asked.

"The next one's more specific. He has to learn humility," America said, and that was also fairly broad and interpretive. He suddenly worried that he wouldn't be able to stay long enough to do the boy much good.

"I take it you have something specific in mind?" he asked. America nodded, rubbing his arm.

"He has to let someone else be in charge for once, and listen to them," he said, and Arthur could see America managing that with his forceful nature. He might wear Britannia down enough that he didn't even realize that he was going along with what Alfred said.

"More than once?" he said, again feeling uneasy about the conditions.

"Three times exactly," he said, holding up three fingers. Then again, Britannia would be stubborn, and England had made the most concessions after he'd been battered down repeatedly. It would definitely take more than America's incessant nagging to make him listen.

"Any other Herculean tasks you've set?" he asked, and America looked at the small painting of Britain and a three year old him laying the grass, looking fairly content.

"Just one more, it's the hardest, but I think since I'm his first colony; it's appropriate," he said, tearing his gaze away from the piece.

"What exactly?" England asked, and America put his hand on England's shoulder, somewhat somber.

"He has to let your Alfred go," he said, and several red flags went up when England heard this.

"That's oddly specific. What if he never meets Alfred? He could be stuck there indefinitely," he said, and America laughed although it did not reach the obnoxious levels he was used to.

"Look me in the eye and tell me, you don't think he has America hostage as we speak," he said. England remembered that there had been a conference at his place a little while ago. He would have the opportunity.

"Okay, he does seem crazy enough to do that," he admitted.

Trust me, the wish orb can only give as much as it takes. If it sent you to me, the orb would have sent him to the other Alfred," he said, and that brought up another issue. The wish orb worked as an equalizer so even with the conditions, he would still need to give up something. What did Great Britain have when you took away his vast empire?

" You said that something precious would have to be given up to allow another wish,"he said, and America tilted his head as if he was serious. When he realized England wasn't following along, he spoke.

"I thought it would have been obvious from what I told you. Great Britain needs to give up his pride in order to return," he said, and England had to admit that all together the conditions would be a good indicator should Britain go through a change. England had lost his pride a short time ago, not that he wasn't proud, but it was no longer absolute. He couldn't do everything on his own, and he was okay with that.

"Hey, are you two coming?" Denmark said, and America's friendly "I'm glad you're here" smile returned.

"Well be right there," he said, and this seemed to satisfy Denmark who returned to the kitchen. America started to follow.

"Hey America," England spoke, and America turned allowing himself to look the tiniest bit impatient. He was keeping Alfred from food after all.

"Yeah?" he said, rubbing his arm again, and England was starting to understand that it wasn't just a habit.

"I know you're afraid, but you're ready. Your people know it, and you will to soon enough," he said, and America let go of his arm instinctively, sucking his breath. He looked over at the pictures again, but this time England couldn't tell if he was looking at a particular one.

"There's something you don't understand. It's something that I've seen Canada go through that I never want to," he said; this time looking at another portrait of a toddler Canada and him giggling and smiling in the forest, their spirit animals not far behind. England did not know why it was so hard a path for him to consider; Alfred had taken that road blindly with few regrets. _What looks so unappealing about a path he followed in my world?_ _Shouldn't he long for it like a key inches from his fingers? _

"What's that?" he asked. The Nordics who had remained silent as they waited for the others to arrive had broken into laughter. America smiled, but it was just as pitiful as before, lacking desire.

"Loneliness, I think it's half the reason that Canada tries to annex me," he said, observing his brother falling behind in the painting with a slight frown. England remembered clearly that Alfred had attempted such a thing several times, each time becoming a less serious venture. His countries politics aside, had he really only been lonely? Arthur had always assumed that his attempts to take Canada had been done out of spite, (kick him out of North America so to speak.)

"Well, America, perhaps, things will never be the same, but change is not always a bad thing," England said, even if he fought change tooth and nail originally. There was always something to look forward to that made the change bearable, even if there was no actual silver lining.

"Are you and Alfred still family?" he asked, testing his own misgivings on what Arthur knew. Well, neither of them really called each other brothers much if at all and he'd always insisted on being called Britain (although this mostly had to do with the fact big brother had a negative connotation for him.) For a long time, they were strangers, and as Britain, his primary concern had been to destroy the insolent brat. The word brother had left a bitter taste in his mouth at that time. They were getting along better these days though; the most ill will he'd had toward him lately was mild irritation accompanied by shouting.

". . . Yes," he said, knowing he had taken too long to really reassure America.

"You hesitated," he said, disappointment evident at how unconvincing and broken his response seemed. While having Alfred think like this wouldn't do, Arthur couldn't lie, not if he were to prepare him for the unpleasant road ahead.

"Well, when you're your own country, you have to worry about yourself first, but you know this," he said, hating to confirm Alfred's distrust of other countries, but it was true. It's why some alliances would only last so long; eventually, they would disagree on something, and that would be the end of it. America understood, and as he heard Denmark laugh at something Finland said, he anxiously played with his fingers.

"I see so if I do strike out on my own, it can never be like the Nordics have it," Alfred said. There was a certain codependence present in the group, even in his world. Finland tended to follow Sweden's lead and held off on certain things accordingly. Denmark also took care of Greenland in their world although he was becoming more self sufficient as time went on. There was a price to this peace, not one of them could push too much; the Kalamar union showed the consequences of that. They could turn on each other just as easily as the rest of them; they were just better at tolerating one another.

"Afraid not, my boy," he said, and America actually seemed put off about something he said. He'd assumed that it had to do with confirmation of his discovery until Alfred spoke up.

"Could you not call me boy?" he said, and England honestly hadn't realized he'd said such a thing. He just acted so much more like the person he used to know that it slipped out.

"Sorry, Alfred," he said, appeasing the boy- Alfred.

"Let's go, before Denmark drags us inside," America said, and England followed because it was nice to pretend they were a family if only for a little while.

* * *

><p>"I owe how much money? How did this happen? I owned almost half the world for St. George's sake," Britannia muttered angrily. America was making a call to his boss and shushed him. Arthur grumbled looking over the papers and looking somewhat overwhelmed.<p>

"Hello, oh, hey, can you take a message to your husband?" he asked, knowing that Michelle could be trusted to get back to him.

"Yeah, I know I missed my flight. No, I didn't loose my ticket or anything. I just decided to stay with England for a while," he said, and the first lady sounded worried.

"No, he's not bulling me into staying. He so does not manipulate me," America said; it didn't matter that England had practically raised him, (he didn't remember who had before that.) He did things on his own now.

" America get me another pencil," Great Britain said, in the middle of some serious math. America should have probably told him that he'd already let his superiors know that he wasn't feeling well, and he wouldn't have the authority to so much as leave the country without permission. He searched for a pencil anyway. It kept him occupied and not breathing down his neck every few minutes.

"Okay, so could you just tell him that I'm worried about England, and I'll be back as soon as I can. Good. Of course, I'll eat my vegetables, and be a good example." Alfred said. He really only got to eat fast food outside of his country since the new first lady came into town. When he arrived in London, he'd gone to the first Mc Donalds he could find, knowing that finding the other fast food chains he enjoyed nearby was pushing his luck. He hadn't eaten so many burgers at once since they first became popular in America.

He finally found a pencil and handed it to Arthur. Alfred ignored the fact it was floating in mid air when he found it. He took the time to observe him. Britannia had the same vexed expression as England had, complete with narrowed eyes and eyebrows, and he seemed to also tap his foot to try and relieve tension too. He wasn't so different from England really, just more bossy and as his first encounter with him had proven, more violent.

"Thanks," he said, too stressed to really focus on him. He scribbled on the paper furiously, crumpling it within seconds. Although it was more trouble for him to admit this, he didn't want Arthur to be so stressed while he was here.

"You don't have to do that. I already told them you couldn't handle work right now," he said, and Britain threw the pencil and it again began to float back to it's previous location. Alfred had long ago accepted that Britain's house was weird and took what he saw with a grain of salt. Britain grit his teeth, and his aura became poisonous once more.

"And why would I be indisposed? I'm fine," Britain insisted, and America tsked, the man.

"Your not England, and his economy's crappy enough without you meddling," he said, and Britain glowered but ultimately chose to lay his head on his desk.

"I'm old aren't I?" he muttered, and America's gaze softened. Age wasn't that big a deal with countries; the only reason Britain had made such a fuss over his growth was that it had happened so quickly.

"No, not really, it's not like you're the oldest. China's old, and he's doing pretty well," he said. Britain grabbed his hand and pulled him down. It was a sudden but America managed to steady himself. America adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath. It wasn't the best thing to say apparently.

"Hey, come on, you need some fresh air," America decided, but Britain ignored him, suddenly growing alert. He stood, heading to the desk where he kept the chalk, searching frantically for the box.

"There's an opening. America what did you do with the chalk?" he shouted, scrambling uselessly. America had thrown it out.

"You don't need it," he said, and Britain marched over to him, muttering some spell. America ducked, and the green beam disappeared into nothingness.

"For some reason, he's changed his mind about the seal. I need to get there before he can change it again," he said, and America didn't want to cause his double problems, (not that the other one was giving him the same consideration.) He continued to maneuver as far away from Britain as possible.

"You can only run away for so long. Now tell me, is there something I can use instead of chalk here?' he asked, and America shrugged, causing Britain to mutter another spell. He ducked, and he vowed never to wish Hogwarts was real again. His kids got in enough trouble with alcohol and drugs as it was. (His scare tactics didn't seem to work very well.)

"Look, obviously, you two have some trust issues," America said. Britain scoffed and glared, proving his point.

"Okay, you said that he was an angel right?" America asked, and Britain sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"I was wrong," he said, starting to calmly search every drawer he could find. A marker started floating toward him, America intercepted it.

"You stay out of this," he said, unsure where to point. He swore something bit him.

"Did you say something," Britain asked. America rubbed his cheek, marker stuffed in his pocket.

"No," he huffed, and Britain rolled his eyes, holding up a feather, before tossing it aside likely thinking he wasn't going to find ink anywhere.

"Anyway, don't you think he left you here for a reason?" America said, and it appeared that his remark offended him enough to end his search.

"Trust me when I say that he didn't leave me here for my sake," Britain hissed, but America wasn't one to just accept what others told him.

"If he really planned to abandon you forever, would he have left a way for you to come back?" he asked, and Britain looked up at the ceiling as he thought about it.

"I suppose not," he admitted, returning his attention to the last drawer he hadn't looked through yet. He completely missed the fairy trying to hand him another marker. America took that one too, and this time it bit his finger. He resisted the urge to mutter fairies don't exist. The thing was just trying to help Arthur get back home. Technically, he should be helping too, but this guy obviously needed his help more. A hero didn't get to chose who was worth saving.

"Come on, let's go outside," he insisted again, and Britain sat down.

"I guess there isn't anything to bloody write with," he said, and America had to react quickly before the fairy could give him the ink bottle. He managed not to spill it. Britain got the remote and started flipping channels.

"I'm surprised you gave up," America said, and England stopped channel surfing when he saw some show about Merlin on the BBC.

"Well, I couldn't find what I needed in time. He's sealed the opening again and," Britain said, seeming to lose energy as he spoke. He lay his head so it almost became one with the couch.

"And?" America asked, somewhat troubled by his subdued state. Britain glanced at him.

"When it closed, I felt- That's not how it happened at all, yet it strangely intrigues me" he said, distracted by the television. America turned it off. When the TV was on, it was impossible to keep people's attention.

"Finish," America said, and Britain relented.

"Sad, and I think it was coming from him, but I don't know why," Britain said, staring at the ceiling. America thought he must be reflecting on his discovery, but England dug into America's pockets.

"You took the markers and ink huh?" he said casually, pocketing the material for possible later use. America glared at nothing in particular.

"Tattle tale," he muttered, but at least, the fairy didn't bother him anymore. Britain took the remote and started watching the show again.

"I'm sure he's fine," America tried to comfort him. Arthur nodded absently. England furrowed his eyebrows. It was quite distracting.

"That's funny," he said, and America didn't bother to ask. Arthur was probably seeing things, and it worried him that he was starting to see things too.

"He's happy again, but it doesn't feel right," he said with a frown, not elaborating further. America nodded, and he felt a buzz in his pocket. He took out the phone and checked the message.

_Are you alright? Canada said you might be in a hostage situation, mon ami._

_Francis_

America quickly sent a text back before Arthur noticed. He did not want to lose contact with the outside world. His paranoia wasn't helped by Arthur's refusal to go outside.

_I'm fine. You don't have to stop by. I know you have a train to catch._

_America_

_P.S. It's really me. Watch, I'll prove it, color, fairy and realize._

The next message took a while to come, but luckily, France wasn't overly concerned, not enough to stop by yet.

_Ok ca march but I might check up on you if you end up staying for more than a week._

_Francis_

As he put the phone away, he noticed Britain watching him. America smiled, making sure he seemed perfectly at ease. Britain smoothed his hair as best he could although it refused to stay down with his usual haircut. His stare unnerved him. He was looking at him as if he were cattle to be sliced into meat for the market.

"You're not as muscled as he is, yet you're almost as strong as me. Why?" he asked, making him feel self conscious. It's not like he could cook healthy all the time with his work load. He worked out as often as he could. As for the question, he didn't know. It didn't make much sense in physical terms, but then, he realized that there was more to a country than that.

"I'm a bigger landmass now, but more importantly, I have a strong spirit, nothing can keep me down for long, not even you," he said, and Britain snatched his glasses. America growled. How many times was he going to do that?

"Sorry, I just realized that these are Texas's glasses. Did she give them to you?" Britain asked, completely ignoring what America said.

"Maybe," he said, and Britain laughed like a dark evil villain. (This idea was reinforced by all the British bad guys that were ever in his movies.)

"My other option is to assume that you stole them," Britain said, waving his glasses in the air tauntingly. America retrieved his glasses, feeling more secure once he could see clearly again.

"Fine, she gave them to me. Now watch your stupid show with bad cgi," America said, and Arthur was not angered by the comment. He changed the channel.

"Maybe Doctor Who is on," he said. Yup, same Arthur.

**Yes, I wrote this monster chapter. Love me. **


	6. Why I Can't Move Forward

Why I Can't Move Forward

The minute the door closed, Alfred's smile faded, and he settled into the recliner, taking a deep breath as he leaned back into the chair. The rain's soft pitter-patter seemed to swallow any attempt England made to speak. The boy- Alfred had gone mute as well, about as frigid as the wind rattling the cherry trees. This wasn't completely unfamiliar territory to England. He'd experienced similar evenings with Alfred in the turbulent days that he assumed would pass. However, there was no thinly veiled hostility this time, only fatigue. England thrummed his fingers together, imitating the falling droplet's beat. America watched, showing no signs of movement other than the occasional twitch of his fingers. England sighed as it became clear things would not proceed if he didn't speak up.

"Would you like to continue?" he asked, deciding to ease back into their previous conversation. America hadn't stopped staring at his fingers and grunted in response. England ignored this and tried again.

"My offer still stands," England said, causing America to lift his head slightly in acknowledgment, but ultimately, drop his head back into the recliner's depths. England stopped drumming his fingers and dug his nails into the sofa's leather instead. As aware as he was of the delicate situation at hand, he could only take so much disrespect before he snapped.

"But I suppose if you're not going to listen," Arthur said which caused the other to jerk in his seat and rub his eyes. He readjusted the angle of his recliner and repositioned himself into a more acceptable position.

"Sorry, I'm not normally up this late," he said, letting out a yawn and rubbing the bridge of his nose. England checked the time on the cuckoo clock above the fireplace.

" It's nine thirty," he said, finding it odd to see him so tired this early, when the America from his world went to sleep at twelve on a good day and skipped sleep all together on a bad day. This was happening more often as of late. Canada and England would sometimes hold interventions if it went on too long. However, America had persistency on his side, and England had grown to accept that he was likely to be awake if he needed him, no matter what time it was.

" I wake up at six," he explained, blinking excessively, likely in an attempt to stay awake.

"Oh, we could talk this over in the morning then," he said, not liking the idea of going over America's governing policies, only to find that Alfred had fallen asleep. That and seeing Alfred fussy brought back some old instincts, long ago repressed, the boy needed sleep. Alfred dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, suppressing a second yawn.

"No, we should get this over with," America said, proceeding to rub his arm, only to stop when he noted Arthur's eye on him. Although not directly dealing with the possible wound underneath, he kept a firm grip on his arm.

"Then, tell me something Britain has done that you disagree with," England said, and America's grip on his arm tightened in response. Despite this subtle trigger, he continued to feign nonchalance and act as if he had forgotten this particular condition.

"Oh, is that really necessary? Everything is- " he started to say, and Arthur didn't bother letting him finish.

"America, there is no point showing you an alternate path if you don't plan to take it," he said, deciding that this might be a good time to stop interfering with his counterpart's affairs. If America didn't want to take this step, he wasn't going to force the issue. Alfred seemed to pick up on this and took a moment to adjust the recliner so that he could face Arthur properly. Unfortunately, his cooperation ended there as he opened his mouth as if to speak only to have no words come out. England waited patiently, somewhat aware of why this was hard for him.

"Something that bothers me . . ." he said, and while he had spoken, England considered the development a misstep as the boy broke eye contact. After this, Alfred watched the weather outside, and with each accumulating rain drop, Arthur's hope that they might be close to a breakthrough dwindled. He'd stopped tapping his fingers without realizing it. He soon started a familiar melody, thinking it might coax Alfred to cooperate. And while "The Star Spangled Banner" had never had a chance to exist here, it had the desired effect. America slowly turned around after he repeated the abridged version a few times, and England searched for some sign of recognition. (Perhaps, a similar melody existed here, even if it were only a commercial jingle of some sort.) Arthur found only curiosity in Alfred's gaze.

"What's that? I like it," America asked, and while not exactly spilling his guts, he was at least conversing with him again.

"The Star Spangled Banner, your national anthem," he said, and America appeared startled by the revelation. He had a feeling that Alfred might ask him to sing it, and he would undoubtedly butcher it under the pressure. After all, America would be listening to it for the first time. However, America instead let out a shaky breath and managed to look him in the eye again.

"Thank you," Alfred said, and England felt that he really didn't deserve the credit. (He hadn't even bothered to hum along as he tapped.)

"It's not like I wrote it," England said as America stretched.

"True but you've been rather stingy with any details regarding your world," America explained, eerily able to piece together the tune and hum it softly to himself from England's tapping rendition.

"Well, why should I trouble you with what ifs if you're perfectly content as you are? Unless you are not as happy as you claim?" England said which did have the effect he hoped for. America frowned, squeezing his arm and forcibly relaxing his hold again.

"It's rather hard for me to confess such things when you two have the exact same face," America pointed out, and as there wasn't much England could do to change this, he shrugged.

"You can trust me," he assured him. America, after a moment, nodded but had to look away before he could speak.

"Well, I think taking away India's and my representation in parliament last year . . . was a mistake," America said, and it seemed voicing these opinions aggravated the wound as he let go of any reservations and began to rub the wound like crazy. England chose not to comment on that and instead focus on this new piece of information and its implications. America had ultimately received what he wanted but had recently lost it. So, in a sense, the people were rebelling over the exact same thing as before. The thought depressed him, and he couldn't fathom why Britain would risk angering two of his most profitable colonies at once, especially when all India had ever wanted was for him to get the hell out.

"And why would he do something like that?" he asked, distracting America who had begun to roll up his sleeve. England wished he would have waited to ask as he could only glimpse a small fraction of the raw red skin hidden under his long sleeve shirt.

"Mostly to eliminate India's ability to veto new taxes so he can pay off his debt to China quicker. He's already bleeding me dry," America said, eyes wide when he realized his mistake. He quickly covered his mouth. England doubted that eye contact would be reestablished any time soon.

"America, are you alright?" he asked when silence had seized control of the room again.

"Y-y-yeah, I just need to put some water on it later," Alfred said, revealing the extent of the wound as he checked the aggravated area. The raw skin stretched all across the previously concealed area and unsettled Arthur. England had no idea what area America's arm represented, but it was obvious the spark of rebellion was spreading quickly.

"That isn't a natural wound," he said, wondering why America wasn't more alarmed. Of course, he could be cooperating with the rebels, but this America didn't seem to want to rebel. Then again, he never did show his true intentions if he could help it.

"I know," he said, unrolling the sleeve and covering his arm once more.

"You can't keep ignoring it," he said, trying not to sound panicked. He did not want to go through this again, not when he hadn't personally provoked it or really stood to gain from participating. A rebellion breaking out would only hurt his chances of returning home in one piece, whether he stayed on good terms with this America or not. America sighed, sounding completely exasperated.

"Could you please just tell me?" America asked, and with what he had just learned, England decided that it would be better to introduce America to a stable form of government while he still had the power to initiate a smooth transition. He might as well write out America's bill of rights while he was at it. He would not alter any of the information he gave, (no matter how tempting it might be in some cases.) Alfred and his people could decide for themselves if they wished to alter anything Arthur showed him.

"I'll need some paper" he said. Alfred stood, eagerly walking into the study and returning with some paper and ink.

"Here," America said as he handed over the supplies. He, then, sat down on his recliner, never taking his eyes off him. While England's memory was quite sharp, America staring at him did not help his nerves, and he worried he might forget something since he rarely had to recall such things. Still, he was reasonably confident that he could write out a copy for this America. The process itself was tedious, and there were moments when he was sure that Alfred had nodded off. However, Alfred stubbornly held on, although Arthur thought he had finally given up, when he rose from his seat. Instead of heading upstairs, he went into the kitchen, smelling suspiciously of coffee beans afterwards. _Cheater. _

"This is your Constitution and Bill of Rights stating exactly what rights your people have and how your government works," England said, glad to find America alert if slightly jittery.

"So, I have a written set of laws like the Netherlands, that makes sense," America said, neatly pushing the paper work aside. He reached over and took the papers from England's hand.

"Ah, yes, he was a republic," Arthur said, surprised to see America grow weary and roll up the papers without so much as glancing at them. He had been so eager before.

"At least, until the Bonaparte incident," America said, staring up at the ceiling and twisting the sheets, likely crinkling England's elegant script. (Perhaps, he shouldn't have bothered joint writing.) The Netherlands had been the first to successfully rebel and had been able to thrive afterwards. He could see why America would find it discouraging that the country had eventually returned to monarchial system.

"That won't happen to you," England said, but America shook his head, in no mood to hear him.

"I've kept a careful eye on the outcome of every revolution that has occurred. Canada and France aside, they've ultimately failed, " he said, taking his eyes off the ceiling in order to face England. Arthur tried to keep his face passive as America seemed keen on gleaning some sort of information on how his world faired in this respect. He thought it best to say nothing of these matters as the results had been decidedly mixed. America frowned and looked down at the documents in his hands, letting his grip loosen. The paper began to unroll on its own, and yet, he still made no effort to look at the contents inside.

"America," England said softly, but Alfred only threw the papers onto the coffee table.

"There's blood," he said, turning to the window as the thunder rumbled ominously outside. England wondered, not for the first time, if countries could influence the weather. Considering how often it rained in London, it's something he usually dismissed quickly.

"America listen," England said, seeing for the first time that there might be a trace of fear and apprehension in his decision to stay put. Based on past experience, Arthur knew that a struggle wasn't always necessary so long as both parties cooperated. He wanted to tell America as much, but he could not promise a peaceful transition when Great Britain could undo all the progress that he and America might make.

"There's corruption," America said, for once, extremely free with his words. Now, that he was fretting, it seemed impossible to placate him. He considered how careful he'd been with the boy- Alfred in the early years. America had little contact with most of the other nations, and England had given him everything he could possibly want. Alfred had every reason to be optimistic starting out as a nation. He'd won against Great Britain, an empire. Truly, even now, America had yet to ever be utterly crushed. However, this America met a different fate. He'd lost and had dealt with the consequences. To make matters worse, he'd seen the results of the revolutions that had followed which were much more bloody than his own had been.

"Alfred," he said, attempting to appeal to his simpler instincts. America tore his eyes away from the window, wiping the beginning of tears from his eyes.

"It's only a beautiful lie," America said in a throaty murmur than he had never heard him speak. Almost in a daze, he blinked, seeming to understand the extent of his outburst. He stood, whispering an apology that was barely audible. England grabbed his sleeve, and took a breath, the reason for his deadly voice coming back to him. Most of his charges wouldn't listen to him otherwise, especially America, and he needed his guidance right now.

"Look at the papers," England said, and as he suspected, America froze.

"Yes, Great Br-England," he corrected himself quickly and collected the documents on the coffee table. Finally, he exhibited the behavior that England had expected all along. Reverently, he smoothed the documents as best he could although the edges curled together anyway. He tentatively held the papers in his hands, possibly remembering people long dead. (Then again, his blank stare made it hard to tell, he could be thinking nothing at all.) America stayed quiet as he read, leaving only the cuckoo clock's ticking and the occasional rustle of paper to disrupt the silence.

"A strong centralized government kept in check by a system of checks in balances. It seems like a sound concept similar to the parliamentary system. Does it work?"he asked, catching England off guard. In any other situation, he would have ragged on America, hard. Today was not the day for this so he attempted a light smile that likely looked more like he had pinched a nerve than anything else.

"For the most part yes," England said, but unsurprisingly, Alfred didn't buy it.

"What's wrong with it?"America said, switching his attention between the papers and England as if that would give him the answer. If he was going to persuade this America to take the next step, he would have to at least make the America in his world sound credible, and to do this, England knew that he would have to do something he'd never done before. He'd have to give America credit for not creating a completely horrible system of government.

"It's not my place to tell you what will work for you. I am in no way forcing you to adopt this system of government," he said, besides a constitutional monarchy worked just as well if he chose to follow that path.

"I am simply showing you what your founding fathers wrote. In two hundred and thirty-five years, this system has kept the America in my world going, for better or worse," England said, proving America's government stable if nothing else. He nodded, appearing to have done the math for he whispered seventeen hundred eighty-three. Alfred held the papers more tightly but otherwise appeared relaxed and thoughtful.

"Besides, he's always smiling like an idiot. I'm sure it's for a reason," Arthur added, and Alfred responded with a smile of his own. He proceeded to review the Bill of Rights. Finding the first amendment to be nothing new, he simply nodded in approval and skipped over it. America frowned and immediately crossed out the right to bare arms.

"I'm relieved you feel that way," Arthur said, thankful that his hunch had been right. He had avoided tampering with that part of the amendment, knowing he was bias when it came to this particular issue. However, he also expected this America to share Great Britain's policies and had assumed they would mostly run along the same line as his.

"While it would have been pertinent to have guns available for everyone when my future was uncertain and invasion was probable, I'm an established military presence. No one outside my country so much as breathes on my seas without me knowing, " America said. The devilish grin instantly recognizable to England, it used to be his after all. He had absently twitched when America claimed the seas as his, albeit he probably only meant the seas along his borders. America laughed softly after he read the third amendment regarding the quartering of soldiers.

"Some of these are quite old aren't they?" America asked, and England had to smirk, despite his reservations about that time.

"Yes," he said, hiding his surprise when America added a clause excluding times of war. America noticed and lightly explained that more than half the country was enlisted in the military service, including those that served part time, so people rarely made a fuss about helping a neighbor out. America then returned his attention fully to the rest of the amendments, making no corrections and alterations until something caught his attention mid page. He circled it and continued, and a little further down the page, he paused again, circling another amendment. He let out a brief chuckle moments later, and England leaned over curiously to see that the laughter was most likely targeted at the amendment repealing the prohibition. Considering America had originally thought him drunk when he had assumed him to be Great Britain. He didn't even want to know the context. There was no further incident or changes made to the remaining document, but America had grown grim, once again looking at what he had circled. He looked up at England and by now, Arthur knew what was bothering Alfred.

"There's something here I don't understand,"he said, and Arthur feigned innocence in case he was proven wrong.

"What?"England asked.

"The thirteenth amendment and fifteenth amendment, I mean, England abolished slavery in 1833, and the right to vote has never been determined by skin color," America said, attempting to rationalize his suspicions. He hadn't ever thought too hard on what positive influences he would have had on Alfred should he have stayed with him. His thoughts right after he lost the colonies had mainly involved how get them back when he wasn't preoccupied fighting someone else or raising someone else. Eventually, he had settled on destroying them and maybe picking up some pieces for himself, (wooing the south had been very tempting in the eighteen hundreds.) Overtime, he hadn't had time to give it much thought at all and when he did, he rejected the idea almost immediately.

"When I industrialized, the demand for slaves quickly fell. Of course, my government follows British law so there wasn't a choice in the matter. I know he probably wasn't as influenced by you because of what happened, but please tell me that I didn't . . ." America said, trailing off and twisting the papers in a repeatedly agitated fashion. England could try to calmly explain the various complicated reasons and rationalization leading to the legislation, but America's tired mind would likely only half listen to it.

"It's getting late. We should retire for the night. Forget the implications of what you read just now and be glad your conscience is clear, " England said, for it wasn't his cross to bare. He doubted this America's conscience was completely untainted, considering Great Britain's involvement with the axis in WW2. That and he was the embodiment of the land, and a country's history could never be completely free of injustice. There wasn't a need to add to his burden.

"But," Alfred said, but England only shook his head and headed upstairs, despite not quite knowing where his guestroom was. America stayed at the edge of the stairs and watched him go. England stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to him.

"I would make sure to have a written clause guaranteeing such things if nothing else. It's not something to be taken for granted," he said, before leaving America to head into the maze of halls downstairs, likely searching for a spiral staircase so he could add a new piece to his collection.

* * *

><p>America was bored. Of course, living as long as they did, this was a symptom that would inevitably spring up. The reasons for this current tedium rested entirely on Britain's refusal to go outside or let him go outside for that matter. Honestly, America had expected the exact opposite reaction and thus, had no plan to coax him out of the house. To make matters worse, he had discovered England's DVR that could record up to three hundred hours of video. After burning through a few Doctor Who Episodes, he had switched to Merlin. America had originally been glad to have him distracted and would have been fine with this development had Arthur not found the liquor cabinet. Despite persistently trying to prevent the Alcoholic stupor that would surely follow, he had been defeated and tied up again after he'd tackled Arthur down one too many times. (To Arthur's credit, he had only snapped at him after his third attempt.)<p>

"Evil Smile, drink," Arthur said as Morgana yet again employed a devilish smile. The longer America stayed tied up and watched, the more apparent it became that Britain would be dead drunk by the end of season three. So, America decided it best to negotiate his release while he was still somewhat rational and in a good humor.

"Hey Britain, I always wondered why do you call people ducks?" Okay, so it didn't hurt to test the waters first. There were two possible answers he could expect if anything he knew about England still applied. The first was the logical answer that it started as a greeting derived from a Saxon word and eventually became a term of endearment. If not . . .

"What's not to like about ducks? They're plump little bunches of feathers that go quack, quack," Arthur said, using his hands as impromptu ducks which he had quack inches from his face. If not . . . that happened, although he could tell right away that Britain was in his right mind as he smirked and tightened the ropes, before he kept right on watching. Well, it wasn't so bad as he only seemed a little buzzed. Generally, it tended to be the high point of the evening when they went out for drinks as he was a little sillier, and it was ridiculously easy to get him to sing. (The nations especially liked hearing him sing their anthems. America noticed it tended to boost morale and encouraged it.) If timed correctly, this could provide an hour of solid entertainment before England began to rant about whatever was bothering him.

"Untie me," Alfred said, not bothering to struggle. The most he could accomplish by doing so would be to wiggle off the couch and fall pathetically to the floor. One rope was tightly wound around his arms and hands while the other strategically bound his legs to his arms. This placement left him in a constant kneeling position which was steadily making him numb. When Britain seemed to ignore him in favor of television, America sighed heavily. Twice now, he had been subjected to being tied down. He did not want this to become a regular thing. Luckily, America appeared to have caught Britain's attention somewhat as he pressed pause and faced him.

"Why should I? So, you can tackle me down?" he asked, tapping his head with the remote. Alfred knew that it was far too late to take away the alcohol. There was also the problem of Britain being able to tie him up whenever the hell he wanted. Brute force would obviously not work in his favor here. So, he was more than willing to compromise and try something else.

"I promise I'll leave you alone," he said, swallowing his pride enough to soften his voice. Not that he didn't do this occasionally to get his way but it made him sick to reaffirm Britain's assumption that he was still a kid he could boss around. However, the sacrifice proved worth it as this tone seemed even more potent on Britain than England. Usually, England knew immediately what he was up to, and it took some further persuading to get his way. America had overused this tactics in the early years of his nationhood when he was in a particularly bad bind. (It's how America had gained his favor and won the Oregon territory dispute with Canada.) England had thus figured out that he wasn't genuinely upset when he spoke this way and found him easier to ignore. Britain had no such immunity. For a moment, he looked stupefied by the comment, before blinking a few times and snapping out of it.

"That won't be necessary. Don't attack me, and we won't have any problems, " he said, tugging at a piece of rope sticking out of one of the knots. Once again, it undid the entire thing. America scolded himself for not figuring out the pattern sooner, until he realized that pulling one piece shouldn't have undone both pieces of rope. He decided that he'd probably just missed him pulling apart the second rope.

Alfred stood and rubbed his wrist which were only slightly chafed thanks to his quick release. Arthur had yet to return his attention to the TV and watched him with keen interest. America knew he had a limited window of opportunity to dispose of the alcohol and ran to the liquor cabinet. As he thought, Britain did not anticipate this and staggered upright.

"What are you doing?"he asked as America threw all caution to the wind and simply tore down the liquor cabinet rather than risk being tied again before he could pour it down the drain.

"I'm getting rid of the alcohol," he said, letting it drop, causing a cacophony of glass shattering and liquor spilling. He picked it up and shook the cabinet for good measure. This was all he could manage before Britain grabbed hold of his arm and tossed him onto the couch. The ropes weren't far behind. Seeing as he had yet to best him in a fair fight, America, slightly panicked, said the first thing that popped into his head.

"Don't hurt me, Mr. Britain sir," Crap. America very nearly took it back, but Britain had gone deathly quiet at his remark. Arthur's nearly feral scowl had pacified into an expressionless mask. He let the rope slide from his fingertips and released his death grip on his arm. America took a few deep breaths, unsure if the current silence was a good thing or not. Still, he saw a hint of weakness he could prey on to perhaps change the current status quo, no matter how awkward and mortifying it might be. America adjusted himself on the couch so that he took up its entirety and confiscated the remote, leaving Britain little to choice but to stand there awkwardly.

"No, of course not," Britain said, promptly gesturing Alfred to move over. He complied but refused to give the remote back, despite Arthur's insistence. It was the perfect time to talk, and America had a very pressing issue he wanted to talk about.

"Why won't you go outside, Mr. Britain, sir?" he said, forcing himself to use a softer tone. The self deprecation was worth it as Arthur did not seem to know what to do to himself. For a moment, he seemed to contemplate simply taking the remote but hesitated when America hugged it closer to his body. Instead, he shifted objectives and began to stroke his back. Alfred tensed unsure what to make of the new development. He supposed that it was simply a side effect of triggering the parental instincts that he had been targeting in the first place. Unfortunately, he began to grow drowsy after a few minutes of this. He hadn't been getting much sleep lately.

"I can't," Britain said with a sigh, letting himself fall back on the couch and thus ending the brief sign of affection. Apparently, Arthur decided he had been soothed enough. America in an effort to stop his sudden drowsiness pulled himself up so he sat upright but still had his legs partly on the sofa.

"Why? It's a nice day out," It was. Although he was still using the softer tone, he had neglected to call him Mr. Britain experimentally. Britain shook his head and appeared to have noticed the change judging by the sudden frown.

"If I . . . If I go outside . . . I might like it . . . here," he said struggling for words. America raised an eyebrow. Wasn't that sort of the point of embodying a country?

"And?" America said, switching to his regular tone without thinking. The pleasantness left accordingly.

"I'm not from here, git," Britain said with a huff, quickly breaking eye contact after that. It dawned on America why that could be a bad thing.

"Oh," he said, unsure how to proceed. He was interrupted. Oh Canada, he could be so slow at answering texts. He'd forgotten about contacting him already. It wasn't good news.

_America, I don't know what exactly happened, but it isn't the first time you've been this paranoid, and it, certainly, is not the first time you've blown things out of proportion. I'm sure what you think is England acting out of sorts is just stress related. For the love of (insert deity here), don't encourage it. _

_ Sincerely Canada _

He answered promptly, knowing that he could handle the situation alone. At the moment, he didn't need Canada to believe him. That said, he did have some proof to back him up and mentioned it accordingly.

_ Fine believe what you want. I can handle things fine. I didn't believe him either until AU Alfred sent a letter informing him he couldn't come home. His back story is also extremely elaborate for someone who is supposedly delusional. By the way you kicked his ass in that world. C: _

_ Love Alfred _

For once, Canada answered back almost instantaneously.

_ Whatever Alfred _ - _ - 0

Britain did not take being ignored well and confiscated the phone. Despite the touch screen functions, America did not manage to exit out of the screen before Britain could see who he had been texting.

"We keep in touch," he explained briefly. Arthur did not explode as he expected and handed the phone back. If anything, he shut off any emotion he might have had and simply shrugged.

"Anyway, you have to go outside, staying cooped up isn't healthy," he said, but it seemed that his previous talk with Canada had made Arthur that much colder to him. Britain didn't even look at him when he took the remote. Now that he wasn't cradling it close to his chest, he no longer seemed uncomfortable taking it. (It may have also had something to do with the fact that he wasn't acting like a sniffling child anymore.) He resumed the video which he didn't seem too enthused about after losing the alcohol and the buzz that came with it.

"I'm sure this London isn't all that different from your world, maybe safer," he alleged, and Britain shot him a look. America raised his hands in surrender, and Arthur relaxed accordingly but added his two cents.

"Do not presume to know everything about me, boy. London has been voted the safest place in the world three times in a row, " he said, a smug grin encompassing his face.

"That's surprising," America mumbled, already sensing that it wasn't the time to instigate an argument. The easily accessible rope on the floor may have influenced his decision to be a little more careful with his words.

"Not really, it has to be," he said with an air of resignation in his tone. America wouldn't admit it openly, but he was kind of curious. What would the world be if he didn't have as big a part in it?

"And why is that?" America asked, and Britain pondered for a moment whether to answer or not. He picked up the Nessie toy from the side table. (He and Scotland often left one somewhere in England's house as a joke, usually in places where it might startle him, like the shower. England had finally accepted the toy's presence in the house and had not thrown it out, ending their shenanigans.)

"It's not something you need to know," he decided finally, putting the toy down and turning the TV off. He went to the kitchen and got the mop, finally acknowledging the mess America made in the living room. Alfred did feel a little guilty about the mess and took the mop from him. Slightly surprised, Arthur let him. As he mopped up the remainder of the alcohol, America came up with a very simple ultimatum for Britain.

"I can't force you to go outside, but," he said, picking up the cabinet to throw away the glass inside.

"This was all the alcohol in the house," he said, leaving a very sour Britain in the living room.


	7. When You're Never Alone

When You're Never Alone

By this point, England had adjusted to this place. He'd found his room easily enough last night, and only paused briefly to appreciate his monogrammed shirts this morning. When he headed downstairs, he braced himself for whatever this Alfred might do with the information he had given him. Perhaps, he'd found suitable candidates for presidency already or . . . Maybe, he was just watching cartoons and eating popcorn. England sighed; perhaps they weren't so different after all.

"Hello, America, I see your keeping busy," Arthur said, dryly. He definitely was not amused. It didn't help that his protégée didn't seem to hear him.

"Voici l'heure des Animaniacs. On a disjoncté à max," Alfred sang along with unbridled enthusiasm. After everything Arthur witnessed, his behavior seemed terribly off to him.

"America," he shouted, making Alfred fall out of his seat.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd fall," England said, offering him a hand. America took it, still extremely distracted. Once he was on his feet again, Alfred patted down his white suit, although his eyes were fixed on the door. Afterwards, he immediately checked his phone instead of addressing him. Rather annoyed, Arthur was about to comment when Alfred snapped his phone shut.

"Oh good, I underestimated how long you'd sleep in. I still have time," America said, running to the other side of the room. England followed at a slower pace, unsure why America was handing him breakable things along the way.

"I know this is going to sound strange, but take those upstairs, Australia and Hong Kong won't go upstairs," he said, putting his hand on the door.

"I'm sorry, door. We had a good run," he said, patting it once more, before collecting the boxes on the floor labeled china.

"I don't think I quite understand," he said, not budging. America sighed, looking at England skeptically.

"I take it; Hong Kong doesn't blow up things where you're from?" he said, and England immediately headed upstairs.

" Put away anything not nailed down. I doubt Australia got over his kleptomania," he said, and America nodded, shutting down his laptop.

When England returned, the room looked sparse, and he supposed that America had tidied up some beforehand. As for Alfred, he sat on the couch, eyeing the door occasionally while repeatedly checking his phone. Arthur sat down next to him and confiscated the phone.

"I may not be from around here, but I do know that fretting over family never solved anything," he said, and instead of calming down like he hoped, America sporadically flipped the pages of the magazine he was holding. Deciding this Alfred wasn't going to stop fretting over company any time soon, he eyed the two piles of magazines labeled Australia and Hong Kong. Curious, England checked the contents of each pile.

"National Geographic, Reader's digest, and Time magazine over here," he said, and America nodded absently. Leaving these magazines out for company sounded reasonable enough to England, what he didn't understand was Hong Kong's pile.

" American gossip magazines, a history book, and your computer with the note, Google it, Hong Kong, attached?" he asked, wondering how bad Hong Kong must be to deserve this level of distraction. America had somehow taken his phone back without him noticing. He glanced at the pile briefly.

"Hong Kong has very strange ideas about me. This is easier than explaining," he said, when the phone finally pinged. After checking the message, he seemed to relax.

"We have an hour," he said, getting up and muttering several spells designed to keep people out of target areas. England nodded, watching as several paintings gained a protective mystical sheen. While he didn't mind Alfred being cautious, he eventually found the number of spells cast in one session absurdly high and eyed him with some suspicion. Alfred wasn't showing signs of fatigue yet. He must not have hidden his discomfort very well because America stopped his various preparations momentarily, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"You think I'm overreacting, don't you?" he asked, and England was careful with his response. After all, he didn't actually know these people.

"I trust your judgement," he said which Alfred seemed to take as a go ahead since he continued muttering spells. While he went through this process, England was left to contemplate America's situation. He didn't seem tired despite all the spell casting and obvious stress visitors caused him. He also hadn't seen him rub his arm today although perhaps that had more to do with Alfred not showing his irritation in front of him. Mood swings were a concern, but he hadn't known this version long enough to tell if this was a sign of greater instability or not, living with Great Britain could have definitely caused him to develop anxiety over visitors and to enjoy the times he was alone. Still, he'd like to know what he planned to do now.

"I really thought you might want to get a move on the whole government issue with the rebellion and all," he said, and unfortunately, Arthur broached the subject while Alfred was saying a particularly complicated spell. America shook his head, and England quieted, waiting for the boy-Alfred to finish. Once he did, he paused and took a deep breath before replying.

"No time, must keep house from exploding," he said, pacing back and forth.

"What am I forgetting? What am I forgetting?" he said, dangerously close to pulling his hair out.

"I'm sure whatever your forgetting isn't that big a deal, calm down," Arthur said, feeling sorry for him. He shouldn't have to worry about people in the same position as him. His pace slowed, and he took a good look at England.

"Shit, Australia will be able to tell it isn't you in a second. You're too nice," he said, heading straight for him. England stood cautiously. He'd rather not be magicked or tucked away in the dark corner of the house, thank you.

"Can't I just pretend? I fooled the Nordics well enough," he said, not addressing the near disastrous split in between, and the concessions that had to be made to mend it. America shook his head. It was worth a shot.

" That was different. They rarely speak with you. Australia sees you every day. He will know," he said, strategically rearranging photos so the ones with Great Britain and America were hidden. He was about to ask about that when Alfred grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him upstairs.

"You're going to have to hide," he said, and England didn't resist. He'd mucked things up the last two times so it's not like he had a solid excuse for staying downstairs. He was dreadfully curious though.

"If you insist," he said, and thanks to his compliance, Alfred released him and let him go upstairs on his own.

"Kitchen," America said suddenly, scrambling to his destination. England went to the top of the stairs and stayed there, watching America run around the kitchen . . . well, like a headless chicken. Alfred took a long list from his pocket, checking off things as he went along. He took out many ingredients, some hidden in compartments that were obviously meant to hide contraband items. He paused, rereading something from the list.

"Make more food next time, is he kidding? It was a three course meal," he said, taking out a recipe book.

"Man, Hong Kong eats like a pig for a little guy," he muttered.

"How do you prepare dumplings again?" he said, flipping the pages of the book presumably to find a recipe for dumplings. While he prepared the dumplings, England watched, noticing Alfred working at a sluggish pace compared to his previous high strung energy and occasionally mistaking the sugar for salt, judging by the way he would grimace when taste testing the food. He was also sweating more and wiping his forehead every few minutes. Eventually, he just stopped, laying his head on the counter.

"Are you all right?" he asked, and surprisingly, Alfred glared at him.

"Hide better," he said, grumpily stuffing a scone in his mouth. Arthur did not heed the warning. He was concerned for the boy's health, particularly since America's hands had started to shake. Naturally, in light of recent events, this was a very bad sign. England had an idea.

"How about I help you in the kitchen?" he asked, and America nearly choked on his scone.

"No, that's all right, you can even stay at the top of the stairs if you want. I'll just cast some sort of cloaking spell," he said, about to do just that when his legs gave out. Alfred kept a solid grip on the counter and kept himself from falling. England didn't bother hiding anymore and went downstairs to help him. He should have guessed this might happen from all the blasted spells he was casting.

"I'ma fine," he mumbled, begrudgingly accepting England's help but still primarily relying on the counter to steady himself.

"You think so?" England said as America nodded, slowly wobbling over to the other side of the kitchen for a pan. England promptly tripped him. America fell, landing on his hands and knees.

"What was that for?" he said, turning over to face him. England crouched down.

"Because you're tired, go, sit down," he said, and the boy seemed to consider it.

"You'll follow the instructions exactly?" America asked, and England grinned, like he ever did that . . . but just this once.

"Yes, exactly," he promised, helping Alfred get back on his feet. The boy searched his eyes for a moment, before the weariness kicked in. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"All right then," he said, letting England walk him to the sofa where he proceeded to put on more of his cartoons with the annoyingly catchy theme song. Left to cook in peace, he made various side dishes, some meant to cater to Hong Kong's tastes (Australia was decidedly less picky. ) while others seemed out of place, the Jell-o for instance. Luckily, the dishes didn't take all that long to make, but time was not on his side or so Alfred's worried side long glances reminded him. Eventually, Alfred spoke up like England figured he would.

"They'll be here soon. You do know this could go horribly wrong if you stay out here right?" he said, and England nodded, preoccupied preparing the steak.

"I doubt either of them would actually hurt me," he said honestly. America sighed.

"Maybe I can keep them out of the kitchen," he said, and England scowled.

"No more spells, it's why you're in this mess in the first place," he said, and Alfred stared at him, confused.

"Oh, you thought- No, I'll just tell them not to go in there," he said, glancing nervously at the door again.

"So, Hong Kong explodes things against your will, but listens if you tell him to stay out of the kitchen?" he asked, putting his hands on his hips, and looking decidedly less intimidating in France's pink apron, the only blasted apron in the kitchen. He didn't even want to know why America had it.

"It's about boundaries," he said, and while that sounded innocent enough to Arthur, it became rather ominous when he noticed Alfred rip a magazine in half with his hands.

"They're under this crazy impression that the smallest thing will make me snap," he said, putting the shredded magazine down.

"I see. Are they wrong?" he asked, and America paused the video.

"I'm trying to watch my cartoons," he said, and England was quick to surrender, mostly because he figured said cartoons might be keeping him sane. He couldn't bring himself to be completely okay with his snappish tone.

"Whatever, it's not like I have a vested interest in you not being evil incarnate," he muttered. America stiffened, and England winced. He hadn't meant for the boy to hear. He shut down the laptop, leaving it there for Hong Kong's convenience. Having somewhat recovered from his brief fatigue, he stood, rubbing his forehead.

"No, they're not wrong," he said quietly, wiping his eyes too briskly for it to have been sweat. He then ran upstairs and slammed the door shut. England sighed. Perhaps, he had been a little harsh. England wasn't as interested in making the food any more but continued nonetheless, no sense stopping now and leaving their guests hungry. When America didn't return, he thought of going upstairs to apologize.

Unfortunately, the door bell rang, actually, it rang several times, no doubt Hong Kong was responsible for the constant chiming. He hesitated; maybe he should wait for Alfred to come down, but if he hadn't come down after the first few rings, he likely wouldn't for the next thirty. Perhaps, he could pull it off, be Great Britain once more, all he had to do was remove his reservations. Arthur sighed, suddenly much more concerned with Australia and Hong Kong's visit, not that he thought anything would go wrong but . . . He hadn't exactly been brilliant the last few times he'd been left alone with other countries. Although in this case, they were colonies, he was in charge of. So, how bad could things get really?

"Hello there, I'm glad you- " he said, unable to sound properly gruff. Like Alfred said, Australia didn't seem to be buying the act, frowning. England didn't have time to dwell on it as he was swiftly embraced by Hong Kong.

"Bad man!" he said, and England accepted the hug dumbfounded. He hadn't heard him say that in a while.

"I'm sorry" he said, and Hong Kong stared at him blankly. Then, the two looked at each other.

"Alfred definitely did something to him," Hong Kong whispered to Australia, keeping his voice low. England had no trouble hearing. Spying was his specialty. He pretended to be oblivious, all the same.

"I knew he'd been gone too long," Australia muttered, coming inside, watching England's every move as if he might be hexed.

"Get away from the door. Get away from the door," America said, scrabbling downstairs.

"But they're standing right here too, so I don't think" he said, pointing at the two, only to find that they had moved to the other side of the room. Before England could react, Alfred tackled him down. When there was no explosion, England scowled, and Alfred started to laugh nervously.

"Get off," he said which must have sounded convincingly grouchy because Australia and Hong Kong burst into laughter, looking relieved. America struggled to keep his cool, extremely flushed and panicky as he hastened to get up. Arthur was about to yell at him for being a maniac when the door exploded behind them. Maybe Alfred had better instincts than he gave him credit for.

"Ally!" Hong Kong yelled, embracing Alfred. England raised an eyebrow.

"Ally?" he said. America ignored him.

"Hello Hong Kong,"he said, hugging back.

"I don't see why you didn't just reinforce the door," England muttered, and Alfred glared at Hong Kong.

"He takes it as a challenge," he said, taking the time to confiscate some of the fireworks in Hong Kong's pockets. Hong Kong sulked but surrendered the items without a fuss.

"I said I was sorry about the toilet," Hong Kong mumbled, placing his hands behind his back. America shook his sleeves, a few packets of pocky fell out.

"Sorry, I thought I might find more in there," he said, picking up the candies and giving them back to Hong Kong.

"No, there were snacks for the plane ride," he said, opening a packet to munch on.

"How are you going?"Australia asked. His frown deepening after surveying the room- empty.

"We're both fine. How are you?" he asked, patting down his suit once more.

"Mad as a cut snake," Australia said, taking off his hat and putting it on the rack. England stepped behind America, something that made Alfred smile for some reason. Arthur found it odd since he was only shielding himself from the evil Koala. However, it seemed this Australia didn't carry it around everywhere here. England was quick to resume an intimidating stance. Too late, Australia crossed his arms, primarily concerned with burning holes into America. Alfred sighed, gesturing to the sofa.

"I figured as much but believe me when I say that there are extenuating circumstances," he said, and England simply nodded, wondering if his serious face looked forced. Australia continually looked confused when he did glance at him. Hong Kong similarly disapproved, tugging at his sleeve. Arthur simply shrugged as Hong Kong's intentions eluded hin. When Leon stuffed a piece of pocky in his hand, he felt rather silly. That's right; the boy used to like gifting him random things.

"Oh yeah, Kill came with me," Hong Kong interrupted the two. Australia seemed to transfer his anger to Leon.

"For the last time Hong Kong, it's Kyle," he shouted. Hong Kong spaced for a moment, before grinning impishly. He _so_ did that sort of thing on purpose.

"Why are you here?" Alfred asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose, a migraine was probably setting in. England stood there awkwardly, somewhat dismayed that Leon refused to let go of his arm. He seemed unnaturally playful for his age, a stark contrast to his serious and resigned counterpart back home.

"We just came to pick him up. India's pissed that he missed meeting with her, by the way. It didn't help that he came over here to personally collect taxes after that last uprising and never left," Australia said, sounding irritable and tired. A dark shadow crossed Alfred's face.

"You know, since he hates you, and the only reason he would stay so long was if he was going to give you tax breaks and subsidies instead of her," Hong Kong piped up as he swung England's arm around. A split second of confusion crossed England's face, a particular thought ringing in his head, _Great Britain adores me._ Did he lie? And if he did, what else did he lie about?

"Right, the only reason,"Alfred mumbled, and England could see America's confidence shrinking by the second. Alfred lost his near perfect posture and seemed to crumple like a sheet of paper. His usually cordial manner diminished, replaced by a doom and gloom attitude. His eyes were permanently fixed to the floor as he hugged himself. The other two didn't seem to take this as an indication to stop. In fact, from the huge grin on their faces, they were enjoying it. England was hit by a sudden pang of pity as he drew his own unfortunate comparisons. _Black sheep of Europe! Black sheep of Europe! _There was really only one way to spare him any more grief, change the subject.

"I think it's about time we moved away from the wreckage. Don't you?" he said, successfully distracting the two.

"Yeah, Ally can clean up," Leon said cheerfully, hugging England. The smile on Alfred's face had never looked so forced.

"Please, just sit down, I'll join you shortly" Alfred said, and it seemed things might finally start to settle down. Kyle, instead of sitting on the sofa like Alfred suggested, headed towards one of the many hallways. The many hallways filled with valuable art.

"I love your house," Australia said, resembling a kid in a candy store as he circled the various priceless items.

"That reminds me, I still want my Picasso back," America shouted, busy clearing up debris. England frowned. Even if he couldn't see what Alfred was doing, Arthur doubted that he would refrain from using magic to clean it up. America was big on shortcuts.

"It's happier with me," he replied snidely.

"I want this one," Leon said, picking up a Ming dynasty vase.

"I'm not just going to give you things, Leon," Alfred said, returning way too quickly for him to have cleared the debris manually.

"Damn, it won't even come of the wall," Kyle said, attempting to take an El Greco painting, figures Australia would want a landscape.

"There's a reason for that," Alfred muttered. Fortunately, Kyle gave up without making a scene and returned to the living room. He avoided the sofa and stood near the now fixed door, closely followed by Hong Kong. England looked at the door and then at Alfred who shrugged, whistling innocently.

"Anyway, I know you probably have food ready for us, but it's in Great Britain's best interest to visit India as soon as possible, and it is a very long trip," he said, only to be interrupted by Hong Kong.

"All the more reason to eat. " Australia leaned over and whispered to Hong Kong.

"Trust me. You don't want to give him the chance to slip a potion in your drink. " Startled, Hong Kong whispered back.

"I don't' think Ally would do that. He's a push over."

"I'm afraid that he won't be able to see India as planned. We're in the middle of applying some reforms to my government. Nothing the two of you should concern yourselves with," America said, having regained his composure. If he had listened in on their conversation, he showed no signs of being bothered. Apparently, he only really cared if England suspected him.

"I knew it. You bitched and threw temper tantrums all year, so now you're getting all the perks," Australia huffed and to make matters worse, Leon joined in.

"Ally's a traitor, no better than an alligator," Hong Kong sang.

"Alligator?" England asked.

"Yes, chomp, chomp, there go all your monies," Hong Kong said, making both his hands into fists and pretending to bite him by clamping his closed fists onto his arm.

"I'm not after any money, I . . ." America trailed off, stepping behind him. For some unjustifiable reason, Arthur found this very wrong, and the noisy bickering nearly overwhelmed him. Then, the noise faded, and England had a brief moment of clarity, amidst the chaos.

Maybe, it was America breaking down. Maybe, it was Hong Kong continuously clamping down on his arm. Maybe, it was Australia shouting advice into his ear. All the same, he had reached a conclusion. He could either stand by and watch his charges pick on each other and make decisions for him, or he could take charge. Frankly, he was damn tired of the fussing.

"Shut up, the lot of you, I'm the one who makes the decisions around here, and from what I've seen so far, I don't see a reason to give either of you a penny," England said, and the results were immediate. Kyle looked dumbfounded, and Hong Kong, thankfully, had stopped playing with his arm.

"Great Britain, I don't know what he has done to you, but we both know what he's capable of," Australia argued, but he'd heard enough of that.

"What exactly? Alfred spends most of his time doing things on behalf of someobody else, and I certainly haven't seen him do anything lately that makes him deserve this level of disrespect," England said, and it seemed Australia might finally shut up. He wasn't that lucky.

"It was a stupid idea leaving him in charge of your weaponry after the war, and I don't know what you were thinking teaching him magic. It's only a matter of time before he turns against you again," he said, and while Arthur could have focused on that rather alarming news, he wasn't exactly in a good mood anymore.

"Did I say you could talk, _Kyle_?" England asked. Australia seemed to realize that he wasn't getting anywhere with his approach. He cleared his voice, responding in a much more civil and respectful tone.

"No sir, but in light of all the close calls so far, don't you think it's time you gave up on him?" Australia asked. England didn't respond right away. If he answered wrong, it could give him away. He looked over at Alfred to see how he was taking the question. His head was hung low, and there were tear stains on his uniform although Alfred himself remained passive. All the same, it had definitely struck a nerve.

"I . . . I came here for a reason, and you can tell India that I will come when I bloody well please," England said, completely avoiding the question. Australia said nothing, and England could almost see this ending well. He wouldn't be dragged off to do Great Britain's dirty work, and they would leave of their own accord.

"No, he has a point,"America said, cleaning his glasses.

"What?" England asked. The adrenaline was kicking in, ready to either run or fight, although neither option was really viable. He could not go to India. Of all the asinine things either Alfred ever pulled, he wasn't sure he ever felt this spiteful.

"We will go see India in a week that should be enough time to straighten things out here," America said, and Australia nodded although his eyes were on England, waiting for him to shoot Alfred's suggestion down. Sadly, he wasn't quite sure how to steer the conversation away from this potentially problematic trip. He wasn't Great Britain, and he did not want to take on that role again. He was retired, dammit.

"Alfred, we can't just-" Arthur said, but Alfred coolly continued, eyeing Australia with the sort of contempt he had showed America previously.

"As for the question of my loyalty, if it will make you shut up _Kyle_, you can be in charge of the royal navy and air force." Arthur raised an eyebrow. That was quite a concession to make. Alfred gave him a look that said trust me. England still wasn't sure, but he didn't say no.

"But Bad man didn't say anything about," Leon said, but Alfred quickly cut in.

"Unless, you disagree, Great Britain?" This was his opportunity to avoid the whole trip, but he decided to take advantage of the level of authority he had here instead.

"I suppose that's fair. You have been causing me an awful lot of trouble lately. So, I hope you understand why India will be receiving aid instead of you, impertinent whelp," England said, surprising America. He hid it quickly. A sliver of a smile appeared on Alfred face, but it was too much like a snake's to really reassure him that he did the right thing.

"Yes, I suppose I do deserve that for what I did," America said, and while he accepted the punishment, he obviously was pleased that he had received what he wanted anyway. Australia and Hong Kong exchanged worried looks. England decided it was best that they weren't given time to discuss what happened amongst themselves.

"Now, let's go eat," England said, and they all followed his lead. Much to his chagrin, they hadn't quite ceased their bickering.

"Mamma's boy," Alfred said, much more incensed than England had ever seen him. Australia responded with an equally belittling barb.

" Brother's pants," Kyle said. Hong Kong who had previously stuck close to England, turned to both of them and shouted gleefully.

"Stupid westerners." The two glared at him. Leon smirked, shrugging innocently.

"What? I thought we were playing around," he said.

The arguing continued throughout dinner, and England busied himself figuring out if it was possible to make Alfred this outspoken every day. However, as far as he knew, there was little that could make an individual push themselves harder than a sibling rivalry. Actually, he should probably pay closer attention to what they were actually fighting about in case he had to step in again.

" No, Hong Kong, it is not customary for American brides to wear bikinis to their wedding," Alfred said, clutching his fork in a homicidal manner or at least, England thought so. He scooted closer to Australia. Alfred noticed immediately and dragged his chair back with his foot. Australia picked up on this and slowly started dragging him back the other direction. Oh dear, he'd made a grave miscalculation.

"But I heard-" Leon insisted, and Alfred cut him off.

"They normally wear white gowns, usually with complicated stitching, and they will do whatever it takes to make sure they fit into it on their special day," he said, wagging his finger at Hong Kong while he was lecturing. Perhaps for similar reasons to his own, Leon inched his chair back, despite being across the table and therefore unlikely to be the first target.

"Someone unraveled quickly," Australia muttered, helping himself to the ensemble of food. America shot him a look.

"No more questions," he said, subtly pulling England's chair closer to him with his foot by circling the chair leg. Hong Kong raised his hand again, ignoring all the warning signs that this was a terrible idea. Australia chuckled, abruptly yanking the chair back the other direction. Arthur held onto the tables surface and avoiding falling on his arse. Australia was done with subtle apparently. America threw his hands up in the air.

" What is it now, Hong Kong?" he asked. Leon eagerly stuffed a dumpling in his mouth.

"Really, Hong Kong? Right after I ask you a question," he said, wearily, eating jell-o. Leon started to chew slower, looking at the table and the guests a few times. Arthur didn't think much of it, until Hong Kong spit out his dumpling, all of which landed on Alfred's face.

"I don't care what kind of stories Australia's been telling you. I did not poison the food," he shouted, and Leon shook his head, pointing at the plate.

"There are four dumplings on this plate, four main courses, four types of desserts, and four people in the room. You're trying to curse me!" he yelled.

"Oh please, you're the pig that wanted more food. I didn't think about the stupid number curse," he said in a low tone.

"Yes because he's the pig in the family, not you," Australia said, in between drinking his soda. Alfred bent his fork.

" At least, I know how to speak _English properly_," he said, smirking when Australia nearly spit out his drink.

" You making fun of my lingo?" he asked.

"What if I am?" he replied , initiating an intense staring contest, with England right in the middle. Arthur tried desperately to think of a topic that wouldn't have them at each others throats. Unfortunately, Leon spoke up before he could.

" At least, he doesn't murder kittens so Mexico can make tacos. Was it worth the extra money, Alfred?" he asked, completely derailing Alfred's focus.

"Huh?" he said, and even Australia raised and eyebrow.

"What ever gave you that idea, mate?" he asked.

" Well, last time Mexico fed me tacos she said that she made them out of your cat, and I haven't seen him around," he said, and America stared at him as if he had two separate heads. Alfred raised his fork as if he were going to stab Hong Kong in the neck. Leon flinched. Then, almost as if a vital piece of clockwork had been removed, America decompressed and let his face fall into the awaiting jell-o.

"You're a freaking moron," he muttered, still slurping up bits of jell-o near his mouth. Australia muttered, "Pig." And, just like that, they began to bicker like children again. Arthur sighed, deciding it best to let them sort it out. They probably were mature enough to settle their differences on their own.

"Says the person who's had a piece of steak, half the chicken, five dumplings, and a leg from the roast duck. You know what I've had? One steak and four freaking pieces of jell-o," he said; still holding the now pitifully bent fork in Australia's general direction. Kyle seemed to have expected this backlash and was just about to counter when Hong Kong interrupted.

"At least, he didn't doom us all," Leon said, unwisely taking the brunt of America's built up discontent.

" Go back to China if you're going to be scared of the damn number four, lots of good things come in fours" Alfred shouted, waving the fork in Hong Kong's face. He swiftly disarmed him and launched two forks at Alfred that nearly hit their mark but ended up stuck to the wall instead. Amazed, England stopped eating and watched his former charge. This was first time in a good while England had seen Hong Kong anywhere near angry.

"I can't," he said, hands shaking. Alfred and Australia hushed, seeing the first sign of actual trouble brewing.

"And I don't freaking care. I like the way things are, but you know what really pisses me off . . ." he said, a truly sinister look on his face. The two didn't say a word. Australia seemed apprehensive, scratching the back of his head. Alfred appeared to slowly realize what all he had said in the last half hour and hid his face in clear embarrassment. As for himself, well, he could use an aspirin about now.

"You don't know how lucky you have it," he said, starting to begrudgingly eat his meal, despite the fuss he made. The other two followed his lead, taking the extra food Leon didn't want, and for a moment, it appeared they might still have a civil meal.

"Food fight," Leon shouted after a period of awkward silence, launching the contents of his spoon at Australia. Alfred laughed until Australia's sharp reflexes kicked in and he deflected the shot at England. Some mash potato landed on his face, he reached for a napkin, satisfied when everyone at the table visibly flinched. He wiped the stuff off. The incident had successfully snuffed any further conversation, and he gave each of them a scathing look, lingering on Alfred, the supposedly better brought up one.

"I expect more from you," he whispered, but by the shocked looks on Australia and Hong Kong's faces, Britain didn't. He then turned to Hong Kong. Leon immediately crossed his arms to shield himself from Arthur's impending wrath.

"Please, next time you want to lighten up the mood, say an amusing anecdote or something instead of throwing food," he said, patting Leon's head. Hong Kong openly gaped at him.

"What happened to you, bad man?" he asked, and England sighed. He didn't really like that nickname.

"Just call me Arthur," he said, confusing Leon for a moment, before he smiled.

"Okay, new man," he said, causing Alfred to grow anxious and glance at him. Australia rolled his eyes. Thankfully, Hong Kong changing his nicknames for people wasn't a new occurrence.

"Now everyone shut up and finish eating," he said, having learned a valuable lesson. Other universe or not, he was still the parent.

* * *

><p>Alfred couldn't say he'd made progress, by any means. Canada still did not believe him, and Britain appeared to have recovered from the initial shock of his forced sobriety. Still, it had only been half a day, a day of endless freaking Who.<p>

" I miss the 10th Doctor," Arthur muttered, watching the eleventh doctor do something or other. America couldn't say. He'd been to busy burning the rope. Scratch that, some progress had been made. He would no longer be subject to the rope's tyranny.

" You could learn to like this one. They are the same person deep down, and who knows, maybe you'll like the differences between them," he said, hinting as best he could what he actually meant. Britain eyed him skeptically, before laughing.

"You're reading way too much into this," Britain said, playing another episode. America grumbled incoherently about stupid Brits, before snatching the remote.

"That's it, no more tv," he announced, shutting it off. Britain attempted to take the remote from him, but he quickly climbed on top of the couch.

"Stop that, you'll dirty the couch," Arthur said, making a grabbing motion for his leg. Alfred jumped off, successfully avoiding capture. America thought about it and grinned. He was faster.

"Wipe that stupid grin off your face," Britain demanded, marching over to him. Alfred smugly backed away, traversing England's house backwards. Britain appeared mildly impressed by this, before pushing forward.

"I've been here, many many times, and I get bored," he said with a shrug, successfully dodging Britain's attempt to grab him again.

"I take it you're bored by now too. Want to go outside?" he asked cheerfully. Britain scowled, speeding up and coming dangerously close to securing his shoulder. Alfred nearly tripped but recovered, choosing to run properly and stop show boating. He took a considerable lead, and Alfred deemed it safe enough to try and talk to him as he ran.

"I know you're worried about accidentally taking England's place, and this is completely unprecedented but- gah, let me finish," he said, dismayed that Britain had managed to grab his hair. He glanced behind him, noticing that they had hit a dead end. Alfred raised his hands in surrender, waiting for Arthur to let go. Britain smirked, holding his unoccupied hand in front of him.

"You could just take the remote. It's in my left pocket," he offered, mostly wanting to speed up the process. He eyed the guest room. There was a window that would get him outside. From there, he could very easily climb up a veranda and force the Brit to make a decision. He could either follow him and drag him back or at the very least leave the flat itself if not the building. Britain shook his head.

"That's not the point. Give me the remote," he said, and it finally dawned on America that Britain wanted him to obey him. Alfred grit his teeth. He'd had to make way too many concessions as of late, but if it would get Britain to let his guard down long enough . . .

"I'll give you the remote if you let go of my hair," he said, and instead of arguing about it, he did.

"I'll be able to stop you easily enough if you run again," he explained. Alfred flung the remote at Arthur who fumbled to catch it. He dashed into the guestroom.

"What are you up to?" he said, following him inside, only to see that he was already halfway out the window. He waved, before stepping out all the way, fairly steady on his feet. Heights were never a problem for him. Britain's adrenaline must have kicked in, because he managed to grab his leg before he could attempt reaching the neighbors veranda.

"What sort of stupid git goes out the window? " he said, forcefully pulling him inside.

" If you go outside with me, the normal way. I'll stop climbing out of windows," he offered, interrupting Britain.

"Why should I do that? I can just tie you up and be done with it," he said, letting him drop once he was safely inside the guest room. America rubbed his arm, having accidentally slammed it against the brick on his way up. Britain glanced worriedly at him and checked his arm. America was confused by his sudden interest in his arm. It wasn't broken or anything. Seeing his arm only somewhat red, he soon lost interest.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"I was just checking for something. You're remarkably stable," Britain said, slow to answer. The response wasn't all that satisfactory, but he'd take it.

"Thank you, I guess," he said, dismayed when Arthur started searching his pockets for the missing rope.

"I burned it," he said. Britain started muttering something under his breath, in a very familiar tone. America wasn't fool hardy enough to stay in the room. He reached the stairs and ran as fast as he could, but immediately, he could tell something was off. The stairs just seemed to keep going as if he were running in place on an escalator. Britain waited at the top.

"Now, you can either run until you get tired or be a good boy and come upstairs," he said, and America immediately ran faster. This sort of thing had to take energy, and he had plenty of it. Britain frowned, looking the tiniest bit unsettled.

"I don't see why you have to be so difficult," he said, leaning against the railway.

"Exactly, you expect everyone to do as you say, and I for one have run out of patience," he said, taking a peek behind him. Arthur still had that stupid smirk on his face.

"You're still doing what I want either way. Why don't you make it easier on yourself and come upstairs?" Arthur said, making sense, and for some reason, Alfred did have a strong impulse to go upstairs. His legs locked up in a way that almost seemed unnatural. He had definitely run longer than this before. He did the sensible thing and ignored the feeling, forcing his legs to unlock before he reached the top of the stairs.

"Who says I'll get tired?" he said, turning around and triggering the stair trap. It did have one advantage. Britain was listening intently and was unlikely to leave the spot on top of the stairs until he gave up.

"Britain, I know you think that this is a downgrade from well an . . . empire, and I'm just a bother but will you hear me out for a second?" he asked, unable to see his expression when he replied, "Go on."

"You said that you might like it here. Why won't you let yourself take a look?" America asked, sweat starting to filter through his layers of clothes. He didn't particularly like being a giant furnace, but he would not take off his jacket. There was always a chance that Britain would figure out his attachment to it and blackmail him.

"You're supposed to be convincing me, not interrogating me. Besides, it's none of your business," he said, and America rolled his eyes, tight-lipped Brit. Britain was considerably nicer to him when he acted like a little kid, but it had been painfully embarrassing for him. Maybe, he could hit some sort of middle ground?

" I think you're scared. I've lived a good half of my adult life as a type of shut in, not near as bad as Japan. I mean I would go outside. Crap, this isn't coming out right," he said, but it appeared that he'd done something right. The stairs had stopped moving.

"You were afraid?" he asked, and America tried really hard not to reply, of course not stupid Brit. I'm the freaking hero.

"I didn't want to go outside my borders," he said, steering the topic back to the point. He'd intended to say it in a way that was relatable to Britain's situation, but it appeared to have the undesired affect of making Arthur sorry for him.

"Why?" he asked, and since he knew the answer would likely anger the Brit, America took this opportunity to go downstairs, before Britain inflicted anymore of his reality altering magic on him. Britain followed, not particularly concerned with keeping up with him now. America eyed him wearily. That didn't mean Arthur wouldn't turn on him if he let his guard down.

"I asked you a question," he said, and America smirked. It was just too perfect.

"So did I, besides it's none of your business," he said, and the intensity of his displeasure diminished rapidly. Arthur ran his fingers through his hair and looked at him skeptically.

"I know what you're doing. You just want to trap me here so I can't go home," he said, and America laughed. He was more worried about Britain overstaying his welcome.

"You're not that awesome," he said, causing Arthur to punch him on the shoulder.

"Whatever, I suppose I could be a little nicer," he muttered. America rubbed his shoulder, and he could of sworn Britain showed some signs of guilt.

"Anyway, I'd have to be pretty insane to want you around all the time," America said, forcing himself not to laugh uncontrollably when Britain started to sulk.

"Oh, come on, you've tied me up twice, not even Russia did that. Logically, I should hate you more than Ivan,"he said, succeeding in distracting Britain who looked at him curiously.

"You've had contact with Russia?" he asked, and America nodded, grinning ruefully.

"Don't tell me that I'm such a delicate little flower over there that I haven't even met Russia," he said, feeling a sick and twisted joy when Britain fidgeted and avoided eye contact. Yup, he'd phrased his comment in such a way that it made Arthur uncomfortable. Mission accomplished.

"No, not exactly, he did work for Russia as a double agent for a while. He mostly had contact with Belarus," he said, giving away juicy details, not on the information he was after, but it was something.

"I see so was I a competent lackey?" he asked, trying to keep him talking. Unfortunately, Arthur completely clammed up.

"What am I doing? I don't need to tell you anything. You didn't even answer my question," he said, indignantly waving his arms around. America removed his glasses, twirling them in between his fingers. He kept a careful eye on them. The thing was heavy. One false move and it could make a hole in the floor, but he didn't particular care what happened to England's floor at this point.

"You don't answer mine," he said idly, putting his frames back on.

"I guess we can't talk to each other, then," Britain said, sitting on the couch. He didn't turn on the TV as America thought he might.

"Yes, we can. I'll answer any questions you have for me. All I need you to do is go outside. We already did once," he said, and Arthur hesitated.

"That was different," he mumbled. Still, Alfred sensed weakness. Arthur was looking out the window.

"Duh, you weren't over thinking it. You just went outside and had yourself a pint," he said, putting a hand on his shoulder and extending his other arm for emphasis.

"Aren't you curious what else is out there? Don't you want alcohol? And, most of all, do you really want to be in the house by yourself?" he said, patting him once and heading out the door. Britain scrambled to get up.

"Where are you going?" he asked, running after him. America stopped in front of the doorway, confident that he had the right idea. If what happened earlier was any indication, Britain clearly cared what America thought of him whether he admitted it or not. After what he'd been through the past few days, he was more than willing to take advantage of that.

"I'm going home. You're no fun," he said, opening the door. Britain slammed it shut.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, and America let out an exaggerated sigh.

"That's what I"m talking about. You're always saying don't do this or don't do that," he said, crossing his arms. Arthur let go of the door, no longer maintaining his perfect posture. He was like a wind up toy that had run out of juice. Now, was the perfect time to twist the key.

"If I go with you, will you stay with me?" he asked, and America nodded. He went out first, amused when Britain only stuck his head out.

"So there's nothing to worry about?" he asked, putting one foot out of the house experimentally. An ambulance drove by, and Britain immediately went inside and shut the door, locking it in the various ways possible.

"No, there isn't. I need you to trust me," he shouted in case Arthur had retreated further into the house. America sighed, not expecting this reaction. He hadn't been this much of a scaredy cat before. He heard the door unlock, and Alfred brightened. The door slowly creaked open. Finally, Arthur stepped out, shaking when he closed the door and locked it.

"Sorry, I don't usually go out in the day time. I'm a bit nervous. That siren means something different to me," he said, looking up at the sky. America pieced it together.

"Britain, do you still get bombed?" he asked, and Arthur nodded. Alfred felt a wave of pity set in.

"Oh, that doesn't happen here, mostly. No don't go back into the house, it's not frequent, and I'm sure there are a lot of things you'll like here. It'll be like a vacation for you," America said, taking Britain's hand. He followed willingly, and was very quiet the whole way to the park. Alfred checked on him constantly. He didn't want him freaking out and heading into traffic. Mostly, Arthur eyed everything distrustfully. Occasionally, he'd stare at something for a really long time. Taking the tubes turned out not to be a problem and like England, Britain could determine which subway train to take without thinking about it. America remained inept in such manners and was grateful this turned out to be the case.

"Hyde Park," he mouthed when they passed the gates, and America nodded in affirmation. He seemed to relax, and America absently headed to Speaker's Corner. He tended to like hearing that sort of thing.

"What this?" Britain asked, and America stopped listening for a minute to answer.

" A place for people to voice their opinions, I like to come to gatherings like this sometimes," he said, surprised when a woman in the crowd approached Britain.

"Hey, it's you. That man from the YouTube video who's more than a hundred years old," she said, pointing at him.

"What are you on about?" Britain asked in genuine confusion. America covered his face. He knew that video would come back to haunt him. He'd have to act quickly.

"Excuse me miss. I'm afraid you're mistaken. This is my father. He comes from a long line of look alikes," he said, dragging Britain away.

"You were in some of the pictures in the paper too," the woman said, following them.

"Never mind lady," he said, walking faster although Arthur wasn't exactly helping him out by refusing to walk.

"Hold on, I thought you wanted me to go outside. Why are we going back?" he asked.

"Yes, I know, but I'd forgotten about the video I leaked which kinda of made people aware of how old you, or I guess England was, kind of" he said sheepishly. Britain smacked the back of his head.

"Twit, trust you, indeed, you can't even remember the mischief you pull," he said, starting to keep pace with America. They eventually lost the lady in the subway.

"Finally, that dreadful woman stopped following us," he said, getting into a subway car. America followed blindly. He figured Arthur had managed to get them to the park okay.

"Sorry about that," he said. His judgement had been severely impaired that day. Britain, however, had stopped paying attention. He showed his hand to Alfred, who stared at the star sticker sitting there dubiously.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, and America stifled a laugh.

"Congratulations, you get a sticker for participating in today's field trip," he said. Britain frowned, looking at it.

"So, does this mean, I passed one of the requirements? Or am I that desperate for a sign?" he said, putting his face in his hands. America patted his back.

"Did it come with a note?" he asked, and Britain checked his pockets. He did find a nice crisp strip of paper inside. The note read, _Congratulations, you have met one of the requirements, but you still have a long way to go, Great Britain sir. _

* * *

><p><strong>When You Need A Friend<strong> is the bonus dream chapter I made for this story that is a crossover with the Animaniacs if you'd like to check it out. Don't worry about them breaking the fourth wall. They do that all the time.

Also, I am extremely glad for the positive reception so far. I am fairly amused that everyone is expecting more from AU Britain's character, particularly with what happens next chapter. (One word, Scotland.:p)

Also, please, if you're going to critique, please be very specific about the parts you think are inconsistent or wrong and mention particular sentences or chapters if you can. It will drive me crazy otherwise and will slow me down.


	8. Wish There Was Another Way

Wish There Was Another Way

After they finished eating, Australia and Hong Kong excused themselves, promising to come back soon. America accidentally broke the door handle at the news, the only real mishap since England put his foot down. No one pointed it out. A final good bye was exchanged, and America quickly shut the door behind him.

Alfred, then, marched upstairs to his hidden study. Arthur followed, surprised when Alfred grabbed his hand and transported him inside. He quickly let go and searched through his papers to take out a sheet of . . .

"Star stickers?" England asked. America shushed him, taking one off and transporting it out of existence. He cut a piece of paper into a thin strip and hastily wrote something on it before sending that as well. He looked up, an amused grin on his face.

"Britain completed one of his tasks. I am simply making him aware of that fact. Whether he figures out why or not is entirely up to him," he said, and England nodded.

"I know the day has been stressful for you, but we really should focus on stabilizing your government," England said. America sighed, removing a few papers from the stack.

"I've been working on it. This is candidate number one, Callahan Gregory," he said, showing him a photo. Younger than the typical candidate and extremely photogenic, the brown haired green eyed young man might be in the running simply because of his aesthetic appeal. The thought didn't sit well with England. This was the first time Alfred would be choosing his representatives, and he didn't want him making bad decisions.

"What do you know about him?" he asked, and Alfred responded promptly.

"He is a very charismatic speaker, easy on the eyes, and current internet polls say he inspires confidence."

It seemed to be exactly what he thought. Maybe, he was jumping to conclusions too quickly. America had shown grace under fire on multiple occasions, and he doubted that he had picked candidates on a whim.

"What about his background?" he asked, and this time America looked through his papers.

" He has had two affairs, is an organ donor, and when he was little, he wanted to be an astronaut, go figure," Alfred said, showing several pictures of Callahan in compromising positions with the aforementioned women, a picture of the young boy in an astronaut costume holding an American flag, and a copy of his organ donor card. Not really anything England wanted to know and nothing he heard so far reassured him in the slightest.

"No, I mean his political background," he said. America put the papers down and shrugged.

"He doesn't have one. I don't particularly like any of my governors," Alfred said, showing no outwards signs of caring in the slightest. England frowned, great, absolutely no experience.

"Facts and figures are important, Alfred. You can't go around putting your faith in someone you don't know," he said, used to having more to go on than a person's face. Alfred smiled smugly.

"I did with you," he said, and England tensed, unable to really deny that was the case.

"Um, well, . . . That- that was different. Do you at least know his stance on key issues?" he asked, and America handed him a few papers from the stack. England looked them over. After he read Callahan's proposal, he could see why it appealed to America. The man's main objective was to make America completely self sufficient by lowering the cost of living, increasing trade with nations other than Great Britain, and encouraging people to pursue careers outside the military instead of relying on immigrants from other countries to fill these roles. The man also wished to keep amicable relationship with Great Britain and maintain America's open door policy when it came to immigration. Overall, it seemed like a step in the right direction.

"All right, I have a better idea of what to expect from him hypothetically. Can you tell me who else is running?" he asked, deciding that the candidate might merit consideration, provided he acquire someone with more experience to advise him. Alfred pushed Callahan's profile to the side and placed the second candidate's picture on the table, a woman in a naval uniform of possible Hispanic origin.

"Alejandra Corazón, a highly decorated captain of the Navy," Alfred said, giving him no further details. He probably thought her record spoke for itself. Alfred waited expectantly, and of the two, he could already tell who he favored. America was rarely out of his naval uniform after all. England shook his head. A good navy officer did not necessarily equal good leader in his book.

"Okay, what is her position on the issues? " he asked, and Alfred gave him the rest of the stack. He looked at the large stack wearily. Apparently she had gone into much more detail about her plans for the country.

England read the proposal, seeing several key difference between the two candidates. While they both agreed that America should start trading with other countries, Alejandra also proposed they deliberately avoid trading with the mother country until America's value as a trading partner was recognized and all restrictions were lifted, including any tariffs deliberately meant to discourage trade elsewhere. She also insisted fifty percent of the taxes forced on America be levied as an unnecessary burden to an otherwise prospering society, especially when most of the common wealth paid next to nothing. If that were not bold enough, she also insisted that the Royal Navy and Air Force became American property when Great Britain was forced to relinquish direct control over military operations, tactics such as granting automatic full British citizenship to high-ranking officers disenfranchised the American forces, and micromanaging the military branches only undermined America's ability to protect the common wealth.

These suggestions bothered England, not so much because he was against any of it, but because it had the potential to create a very sticky situation. Great Britain needed the money America provided to keep afloat, and the protection the military provided. So far as he could tell, the only thing keeping America from turning on Great Britain was the idea that he had a duty to the crown, and Arthur did not want to stick around if say America suddenly went to war with Great Britain. He doubted Alfred would remain helpful if such a conflict of interest was introduced. Still, if he put worry about his own safety aside, she certainly wasn't a bad choice. She obviously did have the experience to run things militarily, and her primary focus seemed to be squashing the rebellions in Massachusetts and New York which would help their current situation rather than hurt it. Yet, England saw her focus on America's military as a weakness rather than a strength. America needed an effective government, not an even bigger military branch.

" So, are these the only two you've considered?" he asked, knowing he was grasping at straws. America tended to stick to a two party system.

"Oh no, these are the two that are winning so far," Alfred said, adjusting his glasses. England blanched.

"Wait, what?" he asked.

"I set up an online vote where people could decide between fifty qualified candidates, including our current governors, these two have the highest votes so far," he said, taking out the computer and pulling up the website. Sure enough, he was rushing into this, just like the other one.

"That's insane. Do you know how easy it is to rig an online vote?" England asked. Unfortunately, Alfred didn't appear to be listening, preoccupying himself by scrolling through the comments and replying to a select few.

"Relax, the servers are safe, I have people monitoring it," America said, completely missing the point. There was no need to hack the server if they could easily fabricate an identity online.

" What about people voting twice? What about people voting from other countries? Or even dead people? This is not a good idea," he said. Alfred bit his lip, and turned to him. Wait. That wasn't the only thing he did was it? No, of course not, if it was, he wouldn't need to be here.

" You're probably not going to like what I have to say next, then" Alfred said, concentrating on the ground, particularly at the scuff mark he was making with his shoe.

"What else have you done?"he asked, sounding gruffer than he meant to. He needed to relax. He finally noticed a chair in the study that hadn't been there before and sat down. He took a deep breath and signaled Alfred to continue.

"I posted the constitution online," Alfred said, showing him the page, apparently it already had one million likes.

"You're mad that could increase support for the rebels," Arthur said. Posting something like that without proper care could rile people up into a frenzy and that is the exact opposite of what he wanted accomplished. There would be no way to do damage control either. Once something was posted online, it left a sticky residue that was impossible to clean. He should know. When he was still in his world, England had been unable to leave his flat successfully without a disguise because of that infernal video.

"Not likely, credit for the change is being given to Great Britain so his approval has gone up thirty percent," America said, expertly avoiding tying the document to the rebel's cause. Still, he disliked being credited for it. Something about saying Great Britain had anything to do with it seemed like a misstep.

"You didn't have to do that," England said. America shrugged, reading over his newest acquisition. He appeared to have recovered from his emotional outbursts this afternoon and relapsed back into a cool exterior.

" It was necessary," he said, looking over a section again. It wasn't surprising that he wouldn't care. England imagined he fabricated lies and manipulated information all the time. Frankly, it was miraculous that the boy had kept his word so far, excluding the upcoming India excursion. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to distrust him, despite all the warning signs.

"And you didn't have to hand over control of the Royal Navy and Air Force to Australia either," Arthur said, the visit fresh on his mind. Not only had Australia turned out to be a brat but he'd also managed to pressure America into giving up a prestigious position and the security that came with it.

"That to was necessary," America said, starting to transcribe a copy of the constitution onto faux parchment. Maybe, there was absolutely no chance of this America breaking free. Why on earth would relinquishing two branches of military to another colony be beneficial?

"Why?"he asked him directly. Alfred moved the pen fluidly, creating neat loops and ridges on what he presumed would be the copy of the Constitution that actually hung on the wall. He paused, putting the pen down and rolling up his sleeve. Parts of the arm were healing as evidenced by the scabs and sometimes flaky texture of the skin, then, there were deep red gashes hinting at recent turmoil. He pointed to the two deepest gashes.

"The rebels had infiltrated both, many people would have died if the switch in command hadn't prompted the navy and air force to run proper background checks," he said, unrolling his sleeve and continuing the transcription process.

"That would have been something to bring to my attention earlier," England said, wondering how much more the boy kept from him for the sake of simplicity.

"It's been taken care of," he said, not explaining why new gashes had formed despite the successful prevention. He'd have to keep note of all these omissions.

"Besides, all these changes have hindered rebels' progress and dried up some of their support. I am feeling much more clear headed," Alfred said, stretching and attempting a smile. Much like a clown's, it was obviously painted on for the sake of the audience. England couldn't deny that he'd accomplished more than England thought he had at this point. Still, there was no judiciary, legislature, or all the other positions that kept the system from falling apart.

"You do seem on top of things, but I am concerned there won't be enough time to implement everything," he said. This sort of thing took months, maybe even years. Time, Arthur didn't have, and yet rushing through the process was guaranteed to cause more problems than it fixed.

"Of course there is, advertisements for the elections have been running non stop. Two days for the primaries, another two for the election, three days to set up the new system, all you have to do is sign this," he said, pushing the paper forward. Yes, then, he'll have an executive branch with no money or impartial judges.

"I'm still not quite sure it will be that simple," Arthur said, pushing the paper aside. America frowned but hid it quickly- so impatient. He stood and started to circle him. England waited, not sure where he was going with this. Surely he wasn't that bothered that he said no? Alfred nodded to himself, finding what he was looking for. He sat on top of his desk and smiled brightly. When he showed no signs of touching the paper, Alfred pouted as if that would butter him up.

"Tell you what, if something goes horribly wrong, we will postpone the trip to India," he said, reminding Arthur of yet another trip he never planned to go on. Except arriving in this universe had been instantaneous, going to India would involve a long flight and dealing with a person who he had seen become unstable several times before.

"About that, is there a reason you undermined my wish to stay out of the way while I'm here?" he asked, and Alfred seemed honestly surprised.

"England, you have never hesitated to step in before. I didn't think it would be a problem. Besides, it's no different from the last few times you've talked to other countries," he said, not so subtly sticking the papers in his hand. He read over it. Basically, it would allow the state legislatures to act without the permission of the crown or more accurately parliament. While it would make implementing the Constitution easier, this would also make him obsolete. He wouldn't need Arthur around anymore to get things done. England frowned, if he didn't know better he would have thought America was trying to pull a fast one.

"Yes, because that went splendidly," England said, putting the paper back on the desk. Unfortunately, he wasn't going anywhere any time soon. He still needed some leverage. America sighed and didn't try again.

"You just need practice," he said, getting off the desk and returning to his chair, a bit more chipper at the thought. Arthur didn't like the insinuation. If he needed to practice, it implied that he would be fulfilling Great Britain's role indefinitely. And if he allowed himself to partake in such diplomatic relations, eventually, Alfred wouldn't need to bring Great Britain back. He would have a decent replacement.

"I'm starting to think that you're prepping me to stay," he said, checking for signs of guilt on Alfred's face. For a minute, he seemed to freeze and confirm his suspicions. Then, he started to laugh uncontrollably and clutch his stomach. Okay, so maybe, he was over thinking the situation, and Alfred just wanted to keep India from becoming angered from Arthur's prolonged stay in America.

" That's silly. I just gave Great Britain a sticker. Things are going at a snail's pace but progress is being made," he said, putting away said stickers. True but he had seen America back home pull even more elaborate ruses for less. Besides, they had been in a position to refuse the trip, and Alfred had jumped at the opportunity to go.

"But the trip could have clearly been delayed," he said, and Alfred shook his head, showing some signs of worry as he finished the main body of constitution and moved onto the amendments. The pace in which he wrote slowed and a small almost imperceptible frown formed. Finally, he spared him a glance and answered.

"Nonsense, if you stay here too long, the other countries and colonies will start to suspect something is amiss" he said, and Arthur could see he had a point. Hong Kong and Australia had remarkably different temperaments, but they definitely did not trust Alfred much as their visit had handily shown. If any of the others had that sort of attitude, it was best not to make them suspicious. However, he was reminded of yet another lie that he wanted clarified.

"Apparently, you're favorable relationship with Great Britain has been greatly exaggerated. Wouldn't they suspect something anyway if you come with me? " he said, and Alfred splattered ink all over the page he was working on. He cursed, attempting to wipe some of the ink off his uniform. Without looking at him, he answered, sounding almost bitter as he watched the ink splatters dry.

"He's very fickle about his favorites. It wouldn't be out of the ordinary for him to suddenly take an interest in me."

"They said he hated you," Arthur said, wanting it confirmed or denied. His reaction would tell him more than his words, either way.

"He treats me like a trouble child. One minute, he'll thank me for doing my duty for the crown, and the next he'll," he said, hurriedly trying to wipe some of the ink off the desk before taking a deliberate pause. Arthur knew the answer well enough.

"He'll yell at you for being a twit," England finished. Alfred dropped the ink soaked paper into the small trash bin near his desk and looked at him in amazement. What did he think, that they were night and day? No, their line of thinking was pretty much the same, England's temper had simply mellowed with time. Great Britain had no such luck.

"Exactly, how did you know?" America asked.

"We're not that different really,"he said, and Alfred nodded, not all that convinced. He took his phone out and started dialing. Arthur could only hear half the conversation, but from what he understood, he wanted to know how the online vote was going.

"How many dead people have voted so far?" England asked, making America roll his eyes. Alfred asked the person on the other line anyway. He nearly dropped the phone. Hah, he wasn't wrong. America recovered the phone, not looking directly at England and taking a sudden interest in the ceiling.

"Huh, that much? How many from Canada and Mexico? And three Harry Potter's, two Shakespeare's, and one Ash Ketchum, lovely." he said, although England doubted he thought anything he heard was all that lovely. America thanked the person on the other line and hung up. He finally managed to look England in the eyes.

"Okay, so, we may need to tweak the process a little bit," he admitted, and Arthur smirked.

"Uhuh,"he said. America held his hands up and started trying to convince him he knew what he was doing. Voter Fraud actually wasn't that much of a problem for America back home, so England assumed that it was mostly the online aspect that was throwing him off.

"You're skeptical, I get that, but I have more faith in people than my would-be founders did," he said as always defending the people, even when they robbed him blind but that was another issue all together.

"That might be a mistake," Arthur said, because over the years, one realized that there would always be someone willing to exploit the system if they could find a flaw in it.

"Well, they can blow things out of proportion. A few countries offer to aid the rebels, and they're already announcing World War III," he said, wiping his forehead to eliminate the accumulating sweat. The study didn't have much ventilation available, considering it was cut off from the rest of the house. He laid his head on his arms and attempted to scratch off the ink with his finger.

"Charming," England said, used to getting that response at home. He hated that he couldn't completely rule it out.

"The point is letting people vote directly from a variety of candidates isn't a bad thing," America said but that really wasn't what he was most worried about right now.

"I'm not saying that it is, but do you even have any sort of government legislature or parliament elected yet? Did you have any actual political parties choose candidates or did you pick the candidates yourself? " he said, because if he had picked the candidates himself, already, the process wasn't turning out to be all that democratic.

"No, I've actually been relying heavily on the state legislatures to keep things running smoothly. As for the candidates, yes I did pick them myself. I suppose next time we can integrate political parties into the system," America said, letting him know that there was some sort of temporary system in place for now. Sadly, he didn't seem to realize why choosing the candidates himself could lead to potential problems later on. He was trying at least and hopefully, next time, he would let the system work itself out rather than interfering.

" It seems like a shaky start to me. I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave the country right now," he said as America started to put things away. Good, they were getting out of the study. He was starting to perspire quite a bit too.

"Nonsense, I'll hold elections for the Senate and the House when we come back," he said, completely ignoring his advice. Even if the election went smoothly, the state legislatures and the new executive branch wouldn't know how to properly interact with each other.

"Alfred, you're not listening to me," he said, and Alfred patted his back.

"It'll be fine. Let's go out. After all these visitors, I'm ready for some rest and relaxation," Alfred said, stretching again. First by extending his arms upwards, then side to side, before lowering them. He rotated his shoulders until they popped. With that taken care of, Alfred extended a hand so he could transport him out of here. The heat must be getting to him that actually sounded like a good idea right now.

"I suppose we could both use a break. Where are we going?" he asked as they briefly entered a weightless void before gravity caught up to them. Arthur lost his balance, landing hard on the grass. Alfred laughed, muttering something along the lines of gravity was not his friend. England looked around, unable to see the house nearby, just an open field that led to a deep pool.

"Not far, I'm visiting my dolphin," he said, explaining the presence of the water. Arthur blinked, slowly registering that. What was with America and aquatic mammals?

"Dolphin?" he asked, making sure he really heard that. Alfred smiled knowingly.

"Yeah, what does he have over there?" he asked.

"A whale," Arthur said, causing Alfred to stare off into the distance trying to picture it. He shook his head, unable or unwilling to imagine it. Apparently, America thought America's pet was impractical. What was this world coming to? That actually made sense to him.

"That's just weird," Alfred said, and England chuckled.

"Well, if it isn't the teapot calling the kettle black," he said, and Alfred shrugged.

"She was a rescue. I didn't want to release her though," he said, stepping closer to the pool and whistling for the dolphin to come. Immediately, they were splashed and the dolphin nuzzled Alfred's hand.

"Why wouldn't you?" Arthur asked as Alfred rubbed her belly. He didn't answer right away.

"At first, I honestly just wanted to keep her. By now, she's been in captivity for so long that she wouldn't survive on her own," he said, feeding the dolphin a couple of fish. Arthur said nothing, feeling he was reading too much into his words.

"Nadine doesn't mind though. I doubt she remembers what it's like, practically has spent her whole life with me," Alfred said, and it was just too much.

"This doesn't remind you of anything?" he asked, and Alfred stepped in the water, no longer caring if it ruined his uniform. He held up a hoop and whistled at a higher pitch. She jumped through the hoop and squirted him with water. Alfred laughed, petting her forehead.

"It's not the same, Arthur. Please don't make more out of it than it is," he said, swimming into deeper water. Arthur waited at the edge or the man-made aquarium. He didn't particularly want to get his suit wet, borrowed or not. Alfred finally came up for air and noticed.

"Come on in, he has plenty of other suits so it's okay if it gets a little wet, or you could just swim in your trousers" he said, taking off his heavy wet clothes. Arthur considered it, feeling rather prudish despite the fact they were the only two there, minus Nadine. Alfred paid him no mind after that, busy swimming with his aquatic companion. So, Arthur took off his jacket and started unbuttoning his waist coat when he heard someone cough behind him. He stopped halfway through the process. Odd, Alfred was still swimming in the water so who could it be? He turned around-Scotland. Arthur immediately started re-buttoning his waistcoat. Colin simply stood there while he hastily put his clothes back on.

"Planning to take a dip lass?" he asked, making Arthur turn a deep shade of red. Great, he called him lass here too. Arthur felt considerably better once he was dressed but didn't answer- he clearly wasn't anymore. Colin wasn't all that concerned. Hands in his pockets, he casually surveyed the area, eyes falling on Alfred in the water. Unsure if his sudden appearance was a bad thing or not, Arthur took a moment to look him over. If he had passed him on the street, he wouldn't have guessed that he was any different from the Scotland he knew. He had the same short fiery red locks that flared upwards instead of falling neatly down like Wales and Ireland's although truthfully, Arthur's would always be the messiest. He still had the signature U.K. green eyes, and much like Colin back home, there was always a trace of condescension to them. He wore a two-piece black suit, much like his own, nothing that automatically told him that they were in very different circumstances. At first, he thought Colin still smoked, based on the white stick hanging from his mouth. This was debunked quickly when he removed a bright red sucker from his mouth, creating a sudden pop.

"Hanging with the boy quite a bit these days?" he asked, and Arthur nodded. He didn't say much else. England considered trying to strike up a conversation, but his past track record kept him from even attempting it. Eventually, Arthur noticed Colin's quick side long glances at him as if he were expecting him to do something. He had no idea what exactly Scotland expected him to do. They weren't fighting or drunk so things were going well as far as he could tell. After a few minutes of silence, Scotland sighed, sticking the lolly back in his mouth. Was he more talkative here? England doubted they had the chance to meet that much. Colin started to close the distance between them, and Arthur shielded himself for the thrashing that was surely coming only to be hugged. Huh?

It was strange and not at all what he expected. He didn't really return the embrace which meant his crossed arms still covered his face while Colin embraced him. He slowly lowered them and patted Scotland's back awkwardly.

"'S fhada bho nach fhaca mi thu," he said, and it took him a minute to registered the Gaelic.

"Yes it has," England said, making Scotland frown. Well, at this point, Arthur tended to only speak it when he was drunk. He was spared from any sort of lecture when Alfred came out of the water and noticed Scotland there. Apparently, Arthur had the right idea. Alfred immediately put his clothes on.

"Hello, I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow," Alfred said, not all that dignified in his soaking wet uniform and rat like strands of hair. Scotland grinned, pulling America into an embrace. Maybe, he was just a hugger here.

"Then, you do not have to fret over my visit," he said, shoving the lolly into Alfred's mouth. England cringed. Not all that hygienic, but he supposed it was the thought that counts. Alfred winced, but did not remove the candy, choosing to nod politely.

"Let's head back, laddie. I heard you've been busy," he said, and Alfred nodded again. England trailed behind them as they talked. Scotland's visit didn't seem to be for political reasons. The two were mostly catching up. Again, he noticed Colin look behind him, expecting something. He had received his hug, kind of. What else did he want?

" Is he sick?" Colin asked Alfred. He shook his head, sparing him a glance.

"He's different is all. Australia and Hong Kong noticed it too," he said. Scotland nodded and didn't say anything more. Alfred hadn't been lying when he said they weren't going far. He could already see Alfred's place in the distance. At the moment, they were crossing the cherry tree path to the main gate. Then, Scotland said something that reminded him of one of the many choices he's made since he'd arrived here. For once, it left him feeling the tiniest bit guilty.

"Are you sure? Did he say why he changed his mind?" Colin asked, and Alfred looked similarly uncomfortable. He opened the front gates and gave a very accurate answer that practically made Arthur's heart jump. The boy was pushing it.

"I don't know. He woke up one morning, and it was like he was a completely different person," he said. Scotland nodded and turned around to look at him appraisingly.

"I can see that," he said, and England attempted to feign obliviousness by looking at the path directly in front of him.

"It wasn't my idea if that's why you came. I am just as surprised as you are by recent events," America said, taking out the lolly and chucking it in the trash. Strange, he was normally better at these types of things. Scotland shook his head, letting Alfred see him inside.

"I came for two reasons, one, to see my nephew and brother and secondly to deliver a message from Russia," he said, catching England's attention. If Russia came into the picture, it could seriously halt their progress.

"What is it?" Alfred asked hanging his damp coat and cap on the coat hanger. England did the same.

"It's not for you, Alfred. It is for Arthur," he said, again, looking at him. Of course, he would have to handle it. He tried to straighten up and take the situation seriously. It had just been a long day and he was tired.

"Go ahead," he said, and Colin handed him a letter. Alfred didn't hide his curiosity, and from the look he was giving him, he expected to be informed of the details later.

_Dear Britain, _

_ I heard you lost your mind recently, comrade, going so far as to go back on your word. You see, I will explain, in case you are suffering from amnesia. We had a deal, and the contract was ready for you to sign when you developed a sudden attachment to little America. _

_ I have been told by Wales that perhaps you might be suffering from a hex. I, being a good sport, asked a number of countries who had seen you lately to confirm this theory. Many did say, you behaved strangely and had an abnormal interest in America's affairs, leading me to believe you might indeed be under America's influence._

_ I've also been told that you are not so careful with magic, and it is indeed possible that the young one might have caught you off guard. As you read this, Scotland should be done checking for any signs of foul play. _

_ I will be coming to see you when you return from India. I do not think in light of America's sudden rebellions that you would cast aside Russia's offer so easily. I personally find the idea that you would leave him to fend for himself laughable. I am not the only wolf waiting in the woods, but I am one of the few that means him no harm. Hopefully, my offer will be one you won't refuse. I do grow tired of haggis and sheep. _

_ Love,_

_ Russia _

He looked up immediately, concerned about the examination Russia had ordered. Alfred was knocked out on the couch, and Scotland held up the boy's hand presumably checking his pulse.

"What are you doing?" England asked. Scotland turned to him, another lolly in his mouth.

"What do you think? I'm making sure I didn't put too many sedatives into his system, " he said, letting Alfred's hand fall so it hung a few centimeters from the floor.

"I'm not hexed, Colin. Everything I've done has been my own choice," he said, and Scotland nodded, but he obviously didn't believe him. He muttered a few phrases, and Arthur felt his muscles stiffen, until he couldn't move so much as his pinky. Drat. He should have prepared himself for something like that.

"It's not that I don't want to believe you, but you've been acting strangely the last few days. I know you, and you, my dear brother, do not let things go, let alone something you've worked so hard to reign in, especially for nothing," he said as Arthur tried his best to breathe. Scotland muttered many phrases, nothing too terribly invasive, just enough to detect previous spells. He frowned when there was only one giant magical residue hanging over him. England gulped, tasting his dinner. He couldn't exactly explain that away.

"You're not from around here are you?" he asked, snapping his fingers. England staggered, holding onto to the sofa's arm rest to steady himself. He breathed deeply, glad to finally have control of his muscles again. He looked up at Scotland, knowing exactly what he expected of him now-an escape, maybe even some sort of brotherly affection that he and his brothers lacked. Sadly, he wouldn't be getting it.

"No, I'm afraid not."

* * *

><p>Things had definitely changed since they had gone outside. Britain had a new obsession, figuring out what exactly he had done to fulfill one of the conditions and what he needed to do to fulfill the others. Some of it was extremely plausible like his theory that he had reconnected with his homeland and had therefore fulfilled one of the conditions. A lot of it was bull, like his current idea that he needed to reconnect to his spiritual side, specifically how he was going about it.<p>

"Tell me again how I'm supposed to find a damn unicorn for you?" he asked since apparently Arthur would not go outside if he were going to be chased by more people like that "dreadful woman." He had offered to make him a disguise, but he was promptly ignored.

"It should be simple even for someone with limited sight. You're still a virgin aren't you?" he asked as he read his newspaper from the balcony. Oh Roosevelt, he did not want to be having this conversation right now.

"Okay, how about I buy you leash and a collar so you can pretend it's a unicorn. Would that work?" he asked, and Arthur looked down at him in the street below with disdain.

"It was Texas wasn't it?" he shouted to him and all the Londoners below. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to hide from everyone and everything. He had newfound respect for his double. Oh, why must this topic come up? Stupid imaginary unicorn.

"Someone save me," America pleaded to anyone and anything. Thankfully, Scotland walked down the street. He grabbed hold of his arm and whispered into his ear.

"You don't have to believe me but that guy up there is not England, and he's forcing me to find unicorns for him," he said, and Scotland laughed.

"I heard he hasn't been in his right mind, but it looks like he's dragging you down with him. Everyone knows you need a virgin or someone with the sight to capture a unicorn, and you're no virgin, laddie, " he said. America was starting to get annoyed and really really red.

"But, he said that something called a wish orb brought him here and the other me is keeping him from being able to go home until he stops being an asshole, and-" he started babbling, and Scotland quickly covered his mouth.

"Hold on, did you say wish orb?" he asked, and Alfred nodded eagerly. Colin removed his hand and started to curse. He then looked upstairs, but Britain had moved away from the window. He guessed he didn't get along any better with his brothers than England did. Scotland sighed and faced America.

"Tell me what you know, and then, I'll make Wales fix his mess, " he said, pulling out his phone and scrolling down his contact list until he found Wales number.

"At first, I thought he had gone crazy too, but I'm ninety nine point ninety nine percent sure it is actually Great Britain from a universe where the imperialistic system survived," America said. Scotland nodded, about to reply when Arthur latched onto Colin.

"You're right he's not my brother," he said, looking at him as if he were barbed wire he had to pull out carefully from his body. Arthur let go, his expression resembling someone who had just been slapped. America kind of felt bad so . . .

"Oh, come on, there was that one time when you two sort of landed on each other. I think that counts as a hug," he said, figuring out after he said it that it probably wasn't the best thing to say. Arthur didn't say a word, and Colin analyzed him with a critical eye. Britain wasn't doing so well under the pressure. His eyes darted around every which way and he fidgeted constantly. Alfred couldn't help himself. He grabbed him by the shoulders and led him inside. He was such an enabler. Scotland followed, dialing Wales number. They made their way up to England's flat. Alfred noticed Britain grab a hold of Scotland's hand, surprisingly Colin didn't shake it off.

"Listen here, we might have a situation on our hands," he said and presumably Wales said some sarcastic remark.

"No, I'm serious. He used the wish orb, and I think we have his double from another universe," Scotland said, and again, it sounded like America's name came up.

"No, America isn't pulling an elaborate prank. Arthur hugged me," he said, and Wales must have hung up. Scotland put away the phone. America's eye twitched, he kind of resented the accusation after everything he had gone through.

"He's coming over," he said, eyeing Britain wearily. He still hadn't let go of his hand. It unnerved America that Arthur didn't say anything. What exactly was going on? Arthur opened the door to the flat, muttering an apology for the mess. He retreated into the kitchen, and Scotland sat down on the sofa. Alfred sat next to him.

"Do you know what that's about?" he asked, and America shrugged. If he thought about it, he didn't know that much about this Arthur at all. Colin took a lolly pop from his pocket. America smirked.

"Still on the lolly pops?" he asked, and Colin jammed a spare lolly pop in his mouth. Ow. Still, it was a gourmet lolly pop so he wasn't about to complain- strawberry cheese cake, yum.

"Shut up, a few decades ago, I would have stabbed you with a fork if you kept me from my smokes," he said, and America raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay, but could you try to be nice to him? I swear, short of taking him outside in broad daylight, he's never that shy," he said, and Scotland groaned.

"I don't know, the wee lass was always strange and very quiet. He would follow me everywhere and believe me I tried to lose him in the woods several times, but bam, I would turn around, and he always behind me," he said, and America's jaw dropped.

"You're a horrible brother," he said, and Colin rolled his eyes.

"You should hear the things Canada says about you," he said, and America slunk further into the couch.

"Yeah, I heard, for a whopping three hours," he said, and Colin chuckled.

"He said you cried," Scotland said, and America turned his back on him.

"I don't want talk about it," he said, and Scotland patted his back.

"Well, I don't want to hear about it. What is Arthur up to? He's not dangerous is he?" he said, looking at the partially visible kitchen. America checked. He was definitely cooking something, bleh.

"How do you feel about being tied up?" America asked, and Scotland raised an eyebrow.

"It hasn't been a good week for you, has it lad?" he asked, and America shook his head. Colin turned on the TV, and Alfred decided he should probably keep an eye on Arthur. When he went into the kitchen, Arthur had already set up the ingredients for Tipsy Laird. He attempted to steal a raspberry, but his hand was quickly slapped away.

"I'm not done yet. Go wait in the living room, unless you can't say two words to your uncle," he said, and America hugged him.

"You're not acting weird anymore," he said, and Arthur quickly untangled himself from Alfred's embrace. America crossed his arms and pouted. Sure, all Scotland had to do was stand outside his flat, and he would run over and hug him. America put up with him for a week- nada.

"What are you going on about?" he said, and America gestured to Scotland and then to Britain.

"That whole hug and following him around like a puppy, what's up with that?" he said, and Britain continued to add layers to the dish. This time he was applying the custard. His face had become grave, and when he finally looked up at America, there was an added level of regret.

"It was World War II. I had officially surrendered the previous day, and I offered to buy my brothers drinks at a secluded club while we awaited our fates. What I didn't tell them was there was going to be an exchange," he said, and it was helping America piece together why Arthur acted the way he did. He didn't particularly like the conclusions he was making either.

"They went inside, and I hung back near the entrance. It was dark. They had no idea that they were going to be taken away," he said, adding the whip cream. America's eyes widened. He didn't.

"They struggled of course, but the Axis were ready for them. Scotland almost made it out. I shot him in the kneecaps to keep him from escaping. He swore he'd never speak to me again, and for sixty-six years he didn't," he said, adding a few raspberries and almonds on top.

"I didn't think I'd ever be forgiven. Then, Russia unexpectedly offered me all of my brothers in exchange for you. It was a hard choice, but our relations had been strained for quite sometime. So, I asked to see them first," he said, offering him some leftover raspberries. Alfred shook his head. He didn't feel hungry anymore.

"There was a ton of yelling, accusations, and cursing, but eventually, we got to a point where we could just talk. I asked if they would honestly want to return to the empire. Apparently, despite the fact I'm a horrible, they forgave me and said they would. So sorry, if I still get excited when I see any of my brothers, for a long time, they were as good as dead to me," he said, taking the plate to the living room. Suddenly his double's motives didn't seem so innocent or justified, he was saving his own ass for as long as he could. America wasn't sure if he would do the same thing if he were put in that position, but he guessed he would if his double had. He didn't feel that he could handle company right then so he hung around the kitchen.

"Alfred, hurry up and eat some desert," Arthur shouted, and he reluctantly left the kitchen, wondering if there was any point in Arthur fulfilling any of these hidden conditions. The other Alfred could have easily rigged it so it was impossible for him to return, but maybe, Wales could help them out. So, Alfred put on his happy face and went into the living room.

" This was awful nice of you. I already like you better than England," Scotland said, and Britain beamed. Alfred bit his lip, starting to wonder if England would ever get to come back- stupid time space continuum. There was a knock on the door. Alfred answered it. Great, England wasn't the only one with the funky black robe. Wales acknowledged him with a nod and walked over to Britain, a sheep not far behind. He grabbed him by the chin, looking him over.

"He has a really negative aura. England's was always kind of half and half," Wales said, unhanding him. Scotland karate chopped his head. Wales rubbed his head.

"What was that for?" he asked, and Scotland pointed to Britain.

"Why would you give him such a powerful object? You know he tends to screw up when it comes to the high-powered stuff," he said, and Wales bit his thumb.

"The prophecy said a horrible calamity would befall him soon," he said, and Scotland slapped his forehead.

"Say, Wales, wouldn't being trapped in another universe count as a horrible calamity?" Scotland said, and Wales blinked a few times as he slowly comprehended the situation.

"Oops, self fulfilling prophecy, those are tricky," he said, and Scotland groaned again.

"Can you fix it?" Colin asked, and Wales shook his head and grabbed Britain's hand.

"Unfortunately, someone's blocked the path to the other world. I can feel the magic pulsing through him, but it looks like there are ways to release the seals," he said, getting America's attention.

"Can you tell us how to undo the seals?" Alfred asked, and Wales grip tightened on Britain's hand, frowning at whatever he saw.

"The wish orb is made through alchemy. Something must be exchanged in order to use it, but I'm afraid that if I tell you, it might actually ruin your chances of setting things right," he said, and America let the back of his head hit the sofa.

"But how are we supposed to send him back if we don 't know what we're doing?' Alfred asked, and Wales petted the sheep.

"The conditions are not complicated. I advise you to keep doing what your doing America. It is helping whether you think it is or not," he said, starting to walk out of the apartment.

"Wait. What are you a Chinese fortune cookie? I need instructions," America said, and Wales turned around and gave him a thumbs up.

"Keep helping him, with your guidance, he will fulfill all the conditions," he said, letting the sheep leave first before shutting the door behind him. Alfred decided to eat some of the dessert, knowing that was all he was getting from Wales. As far as America could tell, Scotland, satisfied that the issue would resolve itself, finished his dessert and prepared to leave.

"Now, try and keep him out of trouble, also forget letting him anywhere near the royal family or any of the politicians. There's a chance they might be able to tell the difference," Wales said and America nodded. Somehow, it felt like he was being put in charge of some pet for the first time which was strange considering the situation. Britain latched onto Scotland's arm.

"Are you leaving all ready?" Arthur asked, and America recognized that tone. So, that's where he got it from. He waited to see if it was actually effective. Colin wasn't looking at Arthur directly as he attempted to remove his brother's hold on him. If America couldn't get out of that grip, he doubted that Scotland would have an easier time of it. Scotland sighed and sat back on the couch.

"Fine but could you make some fudge donuts?" Colin asked, and Arthur nodded eagerly. America was about to comment when another lolly pop was shoved in his mouth.

"Not one word," Scotland said. America nodded. He was getting dessert out of it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I'm glad you all enjoyed Australia's and Hong Kong's appearance. I actually really fell in love with the idea of Hong Kong after seeing a few portrayals of him in fan works so I decided to include him later when Britain had been gone a sufficient amount of time for Hong Kong to be worried. Later, I had the same urge to include Australia at some point as well. I held off on introducing both since Alfred had gone through quite a few visitors already, but the time finally came for them to come in and try to coax Britain to get a move on. I am not sure when they will appear again. Canada's still due for a visit, and I honestly expected to include him earlier but other stuff and countries came up. ^^0<strong>_


	9. Where We Reach an Impasse

Where We Reach an Impasse

For a while, the two simply stared at each other as Alfred snored softly in the background. The moment stretched on forever, neither addressed nor allowed to fade. Arthur sighed. Clearly, Colin never prepared for this scenario and was waiting for him to make the first move. What could he say that wouldn't hurt one way or another?

"We should probably wake him up." Arthur said, ignoring the most pressing issue all together. He disliked having Alfred out of commission. Colin's sudden shift in loyalties had left Arthur vulnerable, and he was unsure he could take him in a magic duel. England was rusty.

"Let him sleep. From what I hear he's been a bit of a bampot," Colin said, seeing through his ploy easily. Arthur wasn't going to drop the subject.

"Nonsense, he's fine."

Of course, Arthur had a rather warped definition of fine that only required that the parties involved be alive and functioning. For example, England had been fine and dandy during the London Blitz. Never mind the fact his whole world was crumbling around him, so long as he had something he could call tea in his cup and someplace to duck in cover, Arthur had been prepared for the long haul. Scotland laughed and shook his head.

"You've not been around long enough to make such assumptions, lass."

"Oh, I've seen enough," Arthur said, still not making a move to wake Alfred. While he had proven himself invaluable so far, Colin had a point. England didn't need the boy panicking and making things worse. The important thing now was keeping Colin from ratting him out to far more threatening parties.

"Perhaps, it's best you leave then. We'll be much better off," Scotland said, the first signs of bitterness seeping through. Arthur frowned. Alfred wasn't included in the "we."

"Oh, don't feed me that line, Colin. I'm not going anywhere. I've long passed the stage where your opinion matters to me in the slightest."

In this world, he technically had no reason to take his brother's side. He certainly wasn't treating him very nicely now that he was in the way instead of the key to his salvation. Colin's eyes narrowed dangerously as his fingers flexed in preparation.

"What makes you think you have a choice?" Colin said.

"If you're so sure, go ahead, snap your fingers and send me away, I don't think you can." England replied readily, feeling quite safe in that regard. There wasn't an easy way out of this place, and Colin needed him present to obtain his freedom. He wouldn't risk misplacing him elsewhere.

Within a few seconds, he was proven correct as Colin forced himself to relax and take a less aggressive stance. England smirked, expecting Scotland to flare up like a struck match. Colin didn't take the bait and instead, gestured to the empty recliner beside him.

"Sit down, " Scotland said coolly.

Arthur blanched, unsure what to make of this development. Colin never wanted to discuss things rationally. The Colin he knew would much rather sit in a bar and avoid the issue until it inevitably came to ahead.

"What?"

"I said sit down," Colin repeated.

Arthur didn't budge, sitting down would only slow his reaction time if the need to fight arose. Rolling his eyes, Colin muttered a few words and forced him onto the recliner. The crude spell left much to be desired in the way of accuracy and knocked the wind out of him. Adjusting his position on the recliner, he sighed.

"This is ridiculous."

Apparently, he was more than a little rusty. He should have been able to block.

"It is. Of all the things that could wrong, this wasn't even on my top thirty," Scotland hissed.

"Excuse me for being a minor inconvenience to you, believe me, I never wanted to come here," England muttered grumpily. The whole trip had been a fluke, and if he'd known beforehand he wasn't dreaming, he'd never have interfered with the exchange. Colin shouldn't be treating him like a fugitive just because he hadn't had the time to correct his mistake.

Unfortunately, Arthur's comment only served to incense Colin further. Losing any remaining restraint he had, Scotland pinned him to the armchair and scolded him incessantly, his accent becoming thicker with each muttered syllable.

"Minor? No, you've always been a wee bit annoying, but this makes me want to strangle ye like I've strangled foxes that come too close chicken coup."

"Can you help me or not?" Arthur asked flatly. Colin obviously wanted him gone, and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Sure, he had obligations to the boy, but England wouldn't mind having an alternate exit strategy if this Alfred proved untrustworthy after all.

A flicker of confusion crossed Scotland's features before he realized that England was willingly playing into his hands. With that in mind, Colin cautiously unhanded him and spoke.

"Depends, you know what I want. Keeping you around won't do me a lot of good, but I have a feeling you won't abandon the boy."

England sighed, hating how easily this Scotland had pieced him together. Colin wanted him gone right this second, and in an ideal world, everything would be fixed already and he would. But, he had two glaring problems to deal with before he could leave with his peace of mind intact. This Alfred needed him, at least for a while longer, and leaving his brothers at Russia's mercy simply didn't sit well with him, regardless of the fact, he wasn't from this universe.

"You're right, but I can still find a way to help you both. I admit that some of the decisions I've made in Britain's stead have been hasty."

Of course, neither problem was easy to fix and even as he said it, England could see he was slowly backing himself into a corner he might not be able to get out of. His would be brother saw right through him and shook his head

"I'm afraid the two are mutually exclusive, lass. You'll have to make a choice, and ye best make it while the boy's still sleeping if ye want out," Colin said, lightly kicking the sofa for emphasis. England cringed, expecting Alfred to wake at any moment. He didn't, and instead turned around so his back was facing them, muttering some incoherent complaint about tuna. He sighed again and weighed his options. As much as he wanted to deny it, Arthur didn't exactly hate the idea of leaving right away.

"But there isn't an easy way out, or Alfred would have sent me home by now."

England neglected to mention that he'd almost successfully returned home a few days prior. Then again, the trip still would have had a hefty cost for Alfred had Arthur gone through with it. The declaration's value while purely sentimental at this point had been nothing to scoff at.

Scotland made himself comfortable on the recliner's armrest and put an arm around Arthur. With an all too smug smile, he gestured outward as he spoke cryptical nonsense into his ear.

"My not quite brother, you're trying to fly over the forest when all you have to do is get through the trees."

England' didn't really buy such a stupidly simple solution existed, or he would have thought of it by now. Of course, Arthur hadn't been exerting much energy into escaping, but he knew a certain someone on the other side of the universe certainly had.

"Then, why wouldn't Britain take advantage of that?"

The ugly truth of course was that this America was blocking his reentry, but if Scotland's assumption was correct, there were gaping holes in between the two universes that Britain should have been able to navigate through.

"Hmm, the boy must have blocked his magical energy signature from reaching our world, but we might be able to untangle the web from this side, " Colin said, swiftly drawing an invisible hexagram as he calculated the many minor changes that had been necessary to nix Britain's return by all practical means .

"I'm afraid I'm not going to risk my safety on a maybe," England said, knowing full well that he shouldn't do anything to jeopardize his current alliance with Alfred. It didn't help that he found neither potential outcome particularly appealing. Either Colin would succeed and send him home, allowing a pissed off Britain to return and reverse any and all positive changes America had made in his absence, or he would fail and leave Arthur at the mercy of an anguished Alfred who would have every reason to consider him a traitor.

"Is that the only thing stopping you?"

No, not at all, I'm simply realizing more and more that relying on you is a liability to my safety and Alfred's rather than my potential liberty. And, yes, there's a chance you won't be escaping Russia's grip, but you knew that already didn't you? You knew that the second you discovered I wasn't from your universe. England thought silently as he scrambled to find an excuse that didn't sound as cold as that.

"Colin, it's not that I don't want to help you-"

"It's that the boy already beat me to it," Scotland finished with an air of resignation.

"I can offer Russia something else," England said, pathetically digging himself into a deeper hole. Logically, assuming Russia's main goal was extending his empire, he would still want some other colony in return and sacrificing some other charge would hurt him just as much as handing over America would.

"So, tell me, which of your children would you be willing to sell down the river?" Scotland asked.

"I wasn't going to-"

"You have no money to spare, and even if you did, Russia doesn't need it," Scotland finished, removing himself from the armchair to add finality to the discussion.

England hated that the answer was so clear cut. That couldn't be it? Could it? There had to be something he could do, but Scotland wasn't even willing to try.

"Blast it, let me help you," he said vehemently.

"There's only one thing you can do to help me. Go home, and let things play out how they were suppose to before you came and mucked everything up," Scotland said, taking another lolly from his coat pocket and snapping his fingers. The lolly glowed with a green magical energy, not unlike what he'd seen Alfred produce previously. Collin held the piece of candy tentatively in front of him. Odds were that one lick would get him home in a blink of an eye before Alfred even had the chance to properly wake up.

"No, I'll figure out how to help both of you, and that's that," England said stubbornly, knocking the candy onto the floor where it smashed into several large red shards.

Knowing that with his luck destroying a bloody piece of candy could well act as a declaration of war here, England waited. Scotland didn't react. In fact, he didn't utter a syllable. England sighed in relief. He seemed to be taking his refusal to leave well. The other Colin would have wrestled him to the ground by now.

Still, in others ways, his careful rationale slipped much more noticeably.

Growing red in the face, Scotland grasped at air, refusing to destroy anything tangible lest it wake America from his fitful slumber. His left eye twitched as if undecided whether or not it wanted to wince. Finally, Colin whispered as loudly and threateningly as possible while still keeping his voice down for the boy's sake.

"Ye naive eejit, it's just like the time ye refused to let go of that damn wee snake that kept bitin' ye arm. Alfred doesn't need yer help. He can take care of himself," he said, pointing a shaking hand at Alfred's sleeping form. For some odd reason, the boy seemed to be reciting the dictionary in his sleep. Arthur sighed, wondering how fair the comparison was. This America while conniving and secretive had yet to hurt him a second time.

"He needs someone to push him," Arthur argued reasonably.

Sure, the boy could take care of himself, but he lacked the ability to follow through. Multiple times, he'd proved unwilling to use force to solve his current problems with Britain, and that was likely the only reason he'd been allowed control of the air and naval forces for so long. The boy was loyal to a fault, and England didn't see any reason not to reward that.

"All he needs is room to breathe, and as far as your options, Russia isn't the worst."

Strangely, he was completely sincere. England had to remind himself that he'd yet to meet Russia here, and there was a chance that Ivan really wasn't all that bad, despite what little he'd heard. Since Arthur couldn't judge for himself, he remained skeptical of this relative stranger who'd by all accounts had received everything he wanted since the world wars.

"Colin, I think you may be a tad bias."

Scowling, Scotland hit him over the head with his palm, very much taking offense.

"No, I actually know what's likely to happen you dolt. Despite what others may think, Russia isn't blindly making a land grab. He knows what he's doing. "

"Fine. What will happen then? Oh, psychic one," England asked, rubbing his head. He could definitely hit as hard as the Colin back home. Satisfied that Arthur had received a good thwack on the head, he grinned and sat on the coffee table since America had taken the majority of the sofa when he'd collapsed.

" There's a chance he'll be traded to Matthew after, and if not, Ivan will have a good place to dock if things get too heated between him and Canada," Scotland said, eyes darting to America a little too quickly for England's taste and even more revealing was the small but very noticeable frown when his favorite nephew's name came up.

"There's more to it than that I'm sure, " England said, hoping Scotland would have the sense to fill in the blanks himself.

"It's all you need to know," Colin said gruffly.

"If you can look me in the eye and tell me this won't effect him negatively at all, I'll help you and be on my merry way," England said, watching Scotland's reaction carefully. His eyes lit up, heavily aware this was his best chance to oust him and restore the status quo. Clearing his throat, he took a moment to collect his thoughts and speak.

"Things will change obviously, but he'll be protected which should be a greater priority than whatever you're pushing him towards."

The rubbish remark irritated him more than it should. The boy wasn't a bunny rabbit he was releasing back into the forest with a bunch of ravenous wolves. He did not deserve to be caged and treated like property. The hypocritical nitwit had even made that very same argument a few minutes ago.

"Oh really? Then, tell me, if Russia's so great, why do you want to leave so badly?" England asked, digging his fingernails into the furniture in an effort to reign in his temper. Losing his head now would only get him into a magic duel that much quicker, and he wouldn't hold himself responsible for the damage he caused after that.

"I was never one for being kept. Alfred is used to it,"Colin said, flipping through a magazine as if they were simply discussing the weather.

"Oh, because he's too repressed to give a damn, you think that makes this okay? Is that what I'm hearing Colin? " England growled.

Taken back, Scotland put the magazine down and looked him in the eye, genuinely confused by his sudden hostility.

"It's practical, three of us for one of him. I don't know why you refuse to see it our way. Britain understood what had to be done. Why can't you? " Scotland asked.

"Britain isn't here right now, and unless I'm suddenly yanked from the cosmos, you're going to be dealing with me. I suggest you learn to live with it, " England said, refusing to acknowledge that on a practical level it made sense. Arthur didn't want to consider anyone expendable, and Colin pressuring him to go through with the deal wasn't helping matters.

Standing up abruptly, Scotland carelessly tossed the magazines into the fire, made a few quick signs with his hands, and forced him out of the chair. Caught off guard, England landed on his back but thankfully avoided bashing his head against the wood panel.

"Damn it, Arthur. No. It doesn't matter which one of ye I'm dealing with. Ye always let the damn lad cloud yer judgement, it happened in WWII, and it's happening now."

He scrambled to get up and muttered his own little incantation so he wouldn't be tossed around like a rag doll anymore. Colin frowned and lowered his hand. Good, that little magic trick was starting to get on his nerves.

"Your accent is slipping," he remarked idly, suppressing his curiosity for the time being. Britain's past was the least of his problems, and there likely wasn't anything Scotland could tell him that America couldn't on the subject some other time.

"Get this through your head, there's nothing you can do. This isn't your world, and this definitely isn't your boy. Stay out of it, before you get discovered by someone that isn't related to you," Colin said gruffly, offering him a hand. He stared at it dumbly, feeling that he'd missed something.

"You're not going to rat me out?"

Scotland laughed and helped him up.

" I wouldn't be a very good brother if I sold you out for my own selfish reasons would I? In fact, I'd be kind of an arse."

"No, I suppose not. Thank you, I appreciate it." Arthur said, pleasantly surprised by Colin's familial loyalty. He didn't have the best track record so far.

"You're welcome . . . Things are very different in your world aren't they? " Colin said, his tone oddly reflective.

"Why?"Arthur asked, unsure what he really meant by that. Perhaps, Alfred was right, and he was too nice compared to his counter part. Shaking his head, Colin slapped his back and ruffled his hair.

"Forget it, you have enough on your mind," Scotland said, forcefully maintaining his grin in spite of what he had just witnessed. .

"If it's important-"

"Alfred, get up, you lazy slob, is this any way to treat your dear uncle that came all the way from Russia to see you?" Scotland shouted, successfully making Alfred jump and get on his feet. His bed hair, damp unkempt clothes, and flustered demeanor made the scene particularly hard to watch. The lad really did believe he deserved every word of scorn, and at the moment, he resembled a bumbling teenager rather than a would be country.

"No, I-I'm sorry I fell asleep. You see there was these monkey-cat-dog things and-"

"I don't want to hear about that. Why don't you cook something for us?" Scotland said haughtily. England stared in amazement when America didn't look the least bit resentful despite having cooked a four course meal only a few short hours ago.

"Yes sir, I'll be right back," Alfred said automatically, completely hard wired to comply to even the most frivolous request from a superior. Since Arthur didn't really want a repeat of the kitchen incident, he stepped in and tried his best to not slight Scotland in the process. There was a chance he really was hungry and had no idea the day Alfred had been suffering through so far.

"Wait. Alfred, you don't have to do that. I'll cook." he offered, causing Alfred to hit his head on the low kitchen ceiling.

"No," Scotland and America shouted simultaneously.

"I mean I can handle it, Mr. Britain sir,"Alfred replied, confusing England for a second, before he rolled his eyes. There wasn't any need to keep up appearances now.

"Cut the crap Alfred, he knows. In fact, don't bother making anything for this deranged lunatic," Arthur said. The news momentarily froze the boy's features in place so his fearful panic was painfully obvious. Scotland waved in affirmation, taking the revelation in stride and that seemed to be enough to snap him out of his stupor.

"What?" he asked numbly.

"He drugged you. That's why you fell asleep," England said, patiently keeping his voice steady and soft. He had no idea how the boy would take the news. As it turned out, he needn't have worried. If anything, he only seemed slightly irritated and groggy.

"Again? You know I won't attack you if you don't attack me first. I don't know why you bother with that stuff," he muttered, leaning on the kitchen's counter top moodily.

"Because I didn't want a repeat of the India incident, you can be a real pain when you have someone to fight for," Scotland said, getting him in an arm lock and rubbing his fist against his head. Despite being visibly sour about the new development, the boy still allowed it.

"The India incident?" Arthur asked, not liking the sound of that. Either Alfred had extremely good or bad relations with India and judging by her displeasure at Britain's prolonged stay, he was assuming the latter.

"It's not important,"Alfred said, forcefully dislodging himself from Scotland's grip as a belated melancholy consumed him. Colin let him go without putting up much of a fight, also strangely somber.

"It is when were going to bloody India in a week," Arthur said, weary of their reactions. The incident in question seemed to be a taboo subject and that alone made him uneasy. The trip to India was insinuated to be one of necessity, but the last few minutes left a completely different impression entirely. America had unfinished business in India, and England might just be a pawn in an overarching game that started long ago.

"Never mind that, she may hate Alfred's guts, but you still have power over her. What you should really be preparing for is Russia's visit." Scotland said, forcing him to consider the task at hand. Russia did present a more hazardous obstacle to Alfred's tenuous freedom.

""Wait. Why is Russia visiting?" America asked, threatening to return to neurotic levels of panic as he strategically surveyed the apartment for things he should change beforehand.

"He didn't take England's sudden change of heart well," Scotland said.

Deciding it was no use hiding the information, England handed him the letter. After skimming through it, he neatly folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

"Argh, this isn't happening. Okay, don't panic, you can figure this out, Alfred. Even if you have to call in a favor from Matthew to do it, everything will be okay, " Alfred said, more to himself than either of them. Not liking the idea of getting yet another party involved, Arthur cut in before the boy made up his mind.

"Relax, Alfred, I've bluffed my way through the other countries' visits. I don't think one more will do us in."

Looking him over, Alfred seemed to reconsider the situation and shake his head.

"Yes, but they like Britain and were willing to look the other way when you started acting strange, give or take a few empty threats. Russia will eat you alive," he said, tapping Arthur's forehead. England scowled. They couldn't be that different.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he replied sarcastically. Alfred grinned sheepishly but didn't withdraw his statement.

"You're forgetting that's he's the same stubborn half-pint as always. You just have to teach him to be mean," Scotland said, twirling an unopened lolly in his hands before transforming it into a candy colored knife. Taking the knife, Alfred snapped his fingers and grinned.

"That's it. I can prep you before we head to India to be more like Britain."

They must have lost their minds if they really thought that was necessary. Did they not realize he was the same person?

"I don't need lessons on how to be myself, " he muttered angrily. Alfred looked at him apologetically but clearly still considered the prospect promising judging by his small smile.

"Quit yer blather, we're not on you anymore." Scotland said, hitting him with a spoon before addressing Alfred. Ow.

"I'll cook you up some hearty soup and fresh fish tonight since the lass seems to think making you cook is a crime against humanity" he said, taking out a few pots and pans from the cabinet. England shot him a look, annoyed by the dramatization, but Scotland payed him no mind and continued to gather ingredients for the soup.

"I think we still have some leftovers Hong Kong didn't take, and I'm not really hungry," America admitted, opening the fridge to look for them. Colin closed it and dragged him out of the kitchen.

" Nonsense, it's the least I can do after knocking you out," Scotland said.

It was clear he won the verbal argument when the boy reluctantly nodded and sat down in the dining room. While he was glad that the situation was no longer dire, England took issue with why they were getting supper.

"What lovely sentiment, what do we get when you try to kill us?" Arthur asked.

"Dessert, Matthew got a huge cake on his birthday after the riots," Alfred answered happily. Arthur blinked as he processed that little tidbit. The family resolved potentially deadly familial disputes with cake.

"I was kidding,"he said, still not quite believing that this was what passed for normal in this place.

"Don't ask, if you don't want to know, lass. Now, where do you hide the cherries again?" Scotland asked, searching every hidden drawer and shelf imaginable in the fridge.

"Check the hidden compartment in the bottom shelf," Alfred said, playing the knife game to pass the time. Arthur nudged him and gave him a disapproving look. He shrugged and snapped his fingers. The knife returned to its original state so all Alfred had to do was undo the wrapper and stuffed the lolly in his mouth to appease him.

"Alright, looks like we have enough for short bread cookies," Scotland said, holding up the flour and sugar.

"You don't have to-"

"Haud yer wheesh'd, before I knock you out again for whining."

"Yes, uncle Scotland. Um . . . How long are you staying sir?" America asked. Scotland stopped chopping vegetables and gave him a scathing look.

"What did I say about calling me sir?"

"Not to," Alfred said, face flushed.

"Then, I suggest you mind your elders and call me uncle," he said, waving the spoon at him.

"Yes, uncle Scotland, but about your visit," he tried again. England shook his head. He was fighting a losing battle.

" You want to get rid of me already, boy?" Scotland said, looking up. A horrified expression crossed Alfred's face as he struggled to recover from the misstep.

"No, it's not that, but won't Russia get mad if you stay too long?" Alfred asked.

"Don't worry about that old circus bear. He won't be expecting me for a while so I might as well enjoy myself before I go back in the hole," Scotland said, eying England meaningfully. He would go back quietly, and for the first time since his initial arrival, Arthur honestly felt sorry for him.

"I trust we won't get anymore nasty surprises now that we understand each other?" he asked anyway. Scotland scoffed and answered.

"Depends if ye get on my nerves or not."

Concerned that hostilities would erupt again, America put a hand on England's shoulder and whispered.

"He really doesn't meant it,"

"Oh, he does, but I think it'll be alright," England whispered back. He really did hope so, even if the evidence was rapidly stacking up against him.

Unlike dinner, supper was uneventful, and it was mostly America and Scotland doing the talking. Eventually, Colin suggested they bring out the alcohol. Despite Alfred's protests, The evening ended with the two of them getting drunk while America quietly retreated to his room. In the morning, he found himself naked on the lawn with a note attached to his forehead.

_If you ever expect to see your clothes again, I suggest you come find me so we can begin your lessons._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Scotland _

That settled it. He hated Colin's guts no matter what universe he was in.

* * *

><p>America hated Rubik's cubes. When he solved one part of the puzzle, he'd inevitably have to undo his work to figure out how the other three parts fit. America never bothered memorizing the solution. That wasn't the point. He needed to look past the obvious, and after Wales unceremoniously declared getting Britain back home was his problem, he really did need to look past the obvious. Maybe, this way? Or that way? Twist it here? No, he was back where he started. He chucked the Rubik's cube in the bin. Why couldn't the solution be easy? Alfred wanted to go home already.<p>

At least, he wasn't alone in his suffering. Scotland had yet to successfully leave England's apartment. And, sure, he could be helping his uncle escape, but his presence was keeping Britain occupied while he tried to figure out these stupid conditions. Why couldn't he figure it out? Technically, they were the same person so their line of thinking should match up. Then, a nagging thought popped into his head. Could he really be sure of that? Losing and suffering the consequences would have likely altered him in ways he could only imagine. They didn't have the same experiences or even the same attitudes if he could take Britain's words at face value. Bah, too many variables, he needed to know more about his other self before wasting anymore time on this.

"Arthur, what am I like over there?"

The truth would probably hurt, but it would give him more to go on than his current theory that his counterpart simply wanted Britain to be nicer. Then again, any evidence that going outside had softened him up had gone out the window a few hours after he'd returned to the apartment.

Currently, Colin and Arthur were in the middle of a game of chess. For most of the game, the two were evenly matched, but Britain had slowly and deliberately caused Scotland's defenses to crack. Taking out an isolated pawn, he sang.

"Ashes to ashes, they all fall down."

His little taunt earned him a heated glare from Scotland who seemed to have forgotten he wanted to leave in the first place. When they continued to play without even acknowledging his presence, Alfred seriously considered fishing out the Rubik's cube from the trash so he wouldn't feel so damn alone.

"Hello, I asked you a question," Alfred said.

Britain rolled his eyes and took out yet another pawn. He didn't seem to realize Scotland was intentionally cornering him.

"I heard you," he said, waving him away so he could focus on the game.

"Look, if you want me to figure this out, you're going to have to give me more to go on than star stickers and the fact he used to be a goody two shoes."

A little miffed, Arthur finally figured out what Scotland was up to and diverted his forces. Scotland still made several clean kills including a few knights and the king.

"That's just it. I have no idea what brought this on. Other than our first spat, he's always been a good boy, give or take a few instances where his hormones got in the way," Arthur said tiredly, accepting that his queen was likely going to get taken out next turn.

"So, you're saying that he's wanting to hook up with someone while you're gone," Alfred said. If that were the case, his double probably made the conditions irrecoverably hard to give him time to make his move.

"I win," Scotland said, moving the fallen queen in between his fingers to further drive the point home. Britain scowled but started setting up the board again.

"Best two out of three?"

Scotland nodded and stopped showing off. America couldn't believe that Britain wasn't putting more effort into this. Didn't he want to go home?

"Come on, would it kill ya to answer me once in a while?"Alfred asked.

Meanwhile in chess land, Scotland had made an unorthodox opening move that Britain was having trouble strategizing against.

"If you must know, your conclusion is flawed. He hasn't been interested in anyone since the twentieth century. Try again," Arthur said, making a brash move that would likely give Scotland the advantage for the next couple of turns. After Colin made his move, Arthur cursed realizing he'd been had.

"Are you sure you haven't done anything to tick him off lately?" Colin asked. Arthur put a noticeable amount of thought into his response this time since it was _Colin_ who asked. At first, he seemed ready to shake his head and deny any potential grievances his double might have. Then, Arthur stared blankly at the chess board as he reached a conclusion he didn't like.

"There is one thing, but it was a year ago. Why retaliate now?"Britain said, directing the question mostly to himself. Scotland nodded, not pushing the subject. As for Alfred, he wasn't anywhere near satisfied.

Ugh, still, way too vague, Alfred needed specifics. Unfortunately, the two were more interested in playing chess than helping him out. He blinked. Of course, the solution was staring him right in the face. Getting up, Alfred crossed the living room and grabbed the chess board, holding it hostage for the time being. Sure, it was petty, but Alfred finally had their full attention, even if they weren't exactly happy about it.

"Move a muscle and no one wins," America threatened when they both stood, ready to clobber him. On a practical level, it made more sense to knock the game out of his hands and start over. Luckily, they were prideful idiots that needed to know which one of them would win.

"What are your demands?" Britain asked.

"Sit down and answer my questions," Alfred said.

"That's it? You're such a child." Arthur said, making himself comfortable on the sofa.

"Just for that, you have to say one nice thing about me," he said, not caring that he was pushing his luck. Britain needed to be taken down a peg.

" This is ridiculous. How will that help anything?"

"Two things," Alfred said, holding up two fingers. He may have intentionally flipped him off instead of doing the usual peace sign.

"Scotland," Arthur said, highly indignant.

"What do you expect me to do about it?"

Grumbling unintelligibly, Britain crossed his arms and refused to say anything at all. Handing the game back to Scotland, he sat down next to Arthur and put an arm around him, tapping his wrist at his imaginary watch.

"I'm waiting."

"You gave the game back already. Why should I?"Arthur asked.

"It's the nice thing to do," Alfred said.

The statement only served to make Arthur even more irritable. Scotland gave him a reproachful look and carefully put the game back on the table.

"The sooner you complement him, the sooner we can get back to the game," Scotland said.

Surprised Colin took a side, Arthur huffed and begrudgingly looked Alfred in the eye, struggling to come up with something to say. If this was anyone else, he'd probably be insulted that it was taking so long.

"I suppose you're not a complete idiot."

He couldn't be serious? Alfred gave him a thumbs down. He could do better than a half insult.

"Doesn't count."

"What do you mean it doesn't count?" Britain shouted, more bark than bite today. Alfred was going to take full advantage of that.

" Would you have told me that as I kid?"

Just like that, Arthur finally seemed to get it. Taking a deep breath, he hesitated before finally muttering something under his breath. Alfred heard it, but he wasn't about to cut him any slack.

"What was that?"

Looking out the window, he said it again, loud enough that Scotland caught it this time. Colin smirked and joined in on the fun.

"What was that, lad?"

"Wait. What?" Britain said, floored that he wasn't being called a lass anymore. It was kind of cute he cared that much.

"Speak up," Alfred said, nudging him in the ribs. Still a little preoccupied, Arthur nodded, and finally said it out loud.

"I was wrong about you. You may be obnoxious, annoying and outright unbearable," Arthur said, starting a mini-rant.

Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Get to the point."

Fidgeting, he seemed to come to a decision and faced him.

" But, I like that you actually smile. And if you're happy, maybe, things turned out for the best here," Arthur admitted.

Alfred was speechless for minute. Acknowledging that he'd turned out okay was more than he was expecting and more than Arthur had originally been willing to admit.

"You still owe me another one," Alfred said, knowing full well it would send him over the edge. The retaliation was swift and unfortunately for him, non-verbal. Britain punched him in the gut and oh Roosevelt, did it hurt. He hadn't had time to react at all.

"You also have a lot of guts. I'm not surprised you're doing well," Arthur said as Alfred gasped for air. America would have been a lot more flattered if he hadn't just brutally punched him. Leaving the sofa, he sat across from Scotland and continued the chess match.

"It's your move."

"Why do you have a sticker on your forehead?" Colin asked, tapping the shiny gold star.

Taking it off, Arthur smirked.

"I think I just passed the exam."

Somewhat recovered, America just had to ask.

"How?"

Laughing rather maniacally, Britain replied, " I have no goddamn clue."

Alfred shut his eyes and squeezed the decorative pillow. Dammit, so close and yet so far.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hello, everyone. I'll be focusing on this story for a while, with the occasional something extra thrown in randomly, depending on what I feel like writing. Hopefully, this was worth the wait. This deals with the aftermath of last chapter so enjoy the double Scotland. I know I did. <strong>_


	10. Wish I Knew What I Was Doing

Wish I knew what I was doing

Under normal circumstances, England wouldn't have minded walking the cherry tree path and entering the house through the front door. However, displaying his bare naked arse to whatever god-forsaken country happened to be in the living room did not appeal to him, it seemed more like something France would do. Actually, if his current pitiful circumstances held up, the smug bastard was probably in there right now.

Instead, he continued to circle the outside of the house so he could find a suitable window to climb through. As he progressed, he hit a bit of a snag. Due to the maze-like quality of the place, the only available windows would either require a bit of a climb to get to or were situated near the entrance. England chose not to climb up for obvious reasons. Finally, he reached the back entrance which hopefully would spare him some humiliation. Thankfully, the door was unlocked, but if the door was unlocked . . .

"Told ye, he wouldn't use the front door like a man," Scotland said, taking a bite out of his toast. Looks like, he interrupted breakfast, lovely. Arthur quickly hid behind the drapes, praying that there was no one checking out his arse from the window.

"I thought he would teleport," Alfred said idly, keeping calm but avoiding eye contact with him, typical. Oh well, he knew full well who the real master mind was. Scotland grinned and drank his orange juice, a lot more amused than he had any right to be.

"Always trust a person with a hangover to miss the obvious," Scotland said, making him go red. Maybe, he hadn't exactly thought this through, but the important thing now was to cover himself up and forget this whole mess.

"Alfred, get my clothes now."

Thankfully, he wasn't so keen on torturing him and went to do as he was told. Good boy, no need to drag this out any longer. The Alfred he knew would have made the whole affair even more humiliating than it already was. Unfortunately, his good fortune didn't last. Colin caught Alfred's wrist and signaled for him to sit back down.

"Hold yer horses, we're not done yet," he said.

Alfred sighed and reluctantly returned to his seat. England glared at him, what a traitor. The boy visibly flinched under his scathing glare but refused to get up. Arms crossed, Colin smirked and stared Arthur down, daring him to dash upstairs and grab his clothes "like a man." Hell if he was going to fall for that, the exit was probably blocked by some magical force field.

"Colin, you do not want me to lose my patience. I suggest you butt out, " he hissed. England's ugly temper was slowly but surely eking out, and Arthur wasn't sure he really cared if he let himself slip. Colin deserved to feel his wrath for making him indecent. Scotland wasn't particularly deterred. Examining his fingernails, he looked up at him smugly.

"Oh, but I do. It's the only way you'll learn," he said.

This again? England wasn't sure this Scotland knew the meaning of the world diplomacy. He needed to keep a level head, regardless of his double's infamous temper.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, I'll get the clothes myself," he said, marching past them, only to run smack into the force field he'd already suspected was there. Sigh, of all the stupid immature things for Colin to pull . . .

"Not so fast lass, like I said, we're not done yet," Colin said, taking out yet another lolly pop from his pocket. To think, England believed Scotland giving up his smokes would make him more bearable. Truthfully, there had been minimal improvement. He still had a stupid white stick hanging out of his mouth twenty four hours a day, and heaven forbid, Scotland run out. Then, Mr. Jekyll turned into Mr. Hyde.

"Fine. I'll go through the front," he muttered, finally prying himself away from the curtains. Clearly if they were here, there was zero risk of running into a visiting country in the living room on the way to his room. Even if they chose to follow him and humiliate him further, they'd already caught him at his most vulnerable. What was one more dash through the living room?

"Do ye really think I wouldn't block the front entrance?" Scotland said, after England had left the safety of the curtains. Arthur refused to lose his cool. Focusing his unfettered rage on Scotland would only keep him unclothed longer and that was the last thing he wanted.

"I'll teleport," he said calmly. This time the boy spoke up although his eyes refused to leave the floor. Considering the circumstances, this was for the best.

"Don't, it's unpleasant," Alfred said vaguely. Colin slapped him on the back and grinned ruefully.

"Sorry about that lad, I didn't realize you'd be caught in the crossfire."

Alfred nodded, shivering slightly. England gave him a pitying look, sad, how easily others could disrupt his entire existence without even trying.

"What do you want?" England asked Colin tiredly. Scotland was going through quite the effort to rile him, and his options were becoming increasingly limited.

"Problem solve, how are you going to get out of this situation?" he asked, taking one last bite out of his lolly before flicking the white stick at Arthur's face.

"Oh, I don't know. Choke Collin to death?" Arthur said, ripping the curtain off the metal rod, or at least, that was his original plan. The fabric was made of tougher stuff than he realized and he accidentally ripped the entire curtain rod off the drywall. Alfred winced, but Arthur paid him no mind, served him right for taking Colin's side on something as ridiculous as this.

" The force fields would still be up. Alfred would just take over," Colin said, waiting until Arthur actually managed to pry the curtain off the metal rod and wrap it around himself before snapping it out of existence.

"But, he'd let me through," Arthur said, completely ignoring the disappearance of the only thing in his immediate surroundings that could keep him modest. He would not give Colin the satisfaction of reacting negatively. Instead, he directed his heated glare at Alfred, sending him a very clear message, "Switch sides now."

"I can't," he said while still having the gall to avoid eye contact with him. It's not like he expected him to look anywhere else, but he should have the decency to confront him directly if he was going to aid in his suffering.

"Why the hell not?" England hissed. Up till now, the idea that this Alfred would be a willing participant in such tomfoolery hadn't even crossed his mind. Now, he was imagining every possible way the boy could make his prolonged stay miserable.

"He's family and I promised," Alfred said begrudgingly. Colin him handed him a cup of coffee for his trouble. Alfred accept it gladly, briefly sending an apologetic look Arthur's way. England scoffed.

"Is that all? Believe me, family is overrated."

"I used to think so, but we may still have use for each other yet," Scotland said ominously. England scowled, increasingly less sorry for Colin. Then again, perhaps, he'd change his mind once he had time to cool off.

"If you really want to be of use to me, would you please let me go upstairs and change? This little spectacle isn't going to help either of us accomplish our goals, " Arthur said, hoping they might yet reach a compromise. By now, his brother had more than made his point. Scotland let loose a hearty laugh.

"What kind of solution is that? And, you think you're ready to see Russia. Try again," Scotland said. England was getting more than a little impatient.

"Fine, I'll just bring my clothes to me," He snapped his fingers, but instead of a nice suit and tie, a cloud of ash landed in a neat pile in his palm.

"Nope, anything you transport is only going to get vaporized," Colin said, much too late to save his pin stripped suit. With every civil solution exhausted, England decided to cut to the chase. At the end of the day, the boy's loyalty was to him and not Colin.

"America neutralize Scotland," he said, deadly serious. No one robbed him of his trousers and left him exposed without facing the consequences.

"Better but I've noticed you rely too much on the boy so . . ." Colin said, examining his fingernails.

"That was part of the promise,"Alfred muttered. If he hadn't looked so guilt ridden, he might have bothered to yell at him, but deep down, Arthur knew who he wanted his victim to be.

"Ugh, okay, you want me to be cruel. I'll be cruel," England said softly.

"Maybe, I should go,"Alfred said, eager to escape now that Arthur's mood had definitely shifted from indignant to vengeful.

"Don't be such a fraidy cat, you know he won't do anything to you," Scotland said. Despite his reassurances, he still had to force Alfred back into his seat. England took the opportunity to cast a quick spell that he'd be unlikely to repel. In one quick flash, the tables turned, and Scotland was the one showing off his bare naked arse.

"How's that for a solution?" Arthur said, in clothes that were honestly too baggy to be of any permanent use to him. Oh well, nothing could take away his current feeling of satisfaction.

"Good but your reaction time was slow. We could have had you dead and buried by the time you properly defended yourself," Colin admitted. Unsurprisingly, he didn't care a lick that he was suddenly unclothed. Thankfully, Alfred finally had enough of the situation and cleared his throat.

"You're services are appreciated, Uncle Scotland, but please put some clothes on," Alfred said. Scotland casually stood and headed upstairs, not in any real hurry to cover himself.

"Aye but finish eating breakfast you two, it's going to be a long day,"Colin said, in a way that promised more humiliation to come. Still, he was relieved when Scotland removed the force field blocking his way upstairs. Arthur wouldn't have to stay in Colin's clothes for very long which still smelled far too much like nicotine and ocean brine for his taste.

"I want him out of the house," England said bluntly, once Scotland was presumably out of hearing distance. America seemed outright baffled by his sudden animosity and immediately went on the defensive.

"He's family. I'm not kicking him out if he doesn't want to go yet, " Alfred said firmly.

"You can't keep letting people push you around. I've been here less than a week, and I swear if I didn't know any better I'd think you were running a hotel. This is your place, not theirs, " Arthur said, never mind what awaited Colin on his return. He didn't have the patience to put up with him if this is what he had to look forward to everyday. England would find some other way to help Scotland, one that didn't involve keeping close contact with him. Alfred's eyes shone with a familiar defiant spark

"And, this is my decision, not yours, or have you forgotten that you don't actually belong here and can't tell me what to do?" he shouted. As soon as he said it, Alfred clearly wanted to take the words back.

"I didn't mean-"

England understood loud and clear. He'd finally crossed the line.

"No you're right. I'm sorry for overstepping my bounds," England said stiffly. He'd rather end this quickly and head upstairs as soon as possible, any longer, and an argument might start. Alfred struggled to figure out what to say and instinctively grabbed his shoulder before he could run off.

"Wait, follow me, I want to show you something upstairs," Alfred said. Arthur sighed and shook his head.

"I take it that you want us to speak in your little hovel," he said dryly. England wasn't exactly in the best of moods this morning, and while he was curious about what particular oddity America would show him, he didn't think now was the best time to partake in such things.

"Actually, I thought we could look over some of my old journals. That way, you can understand why I'm so afraid of losing people I care about, " Alfred said, still clinging to his oversized dress shirt as if Arthur would snap out of existence the minute he let go.

"From what I gathered, Scotland has other plans. Besides, I wouldn't worry about your uncle too much. He's resourceful, like you," England said.

"If I let him leave, I know he is not coming back. I understand that your relationship with him is strained, but please, while you're here, remember, he doesn't have anywhere else to hide," Alfred said. Now, England knew perfectly well that the boy's instincts weren't wrong so he simply nodded. He had lost his head for a minute there. Even if he couldn't remedy the situation, Arthur could at least stall for as long as possible, right up until the moment Russia knocked on the door. Then, his priorities would shift considerably to his own safety and Alfred's.

"To be honest, I'd love to learn a little more about this place provided Colin doesn't start wondering where we ran off to," Arthur admitted. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Trust me, we'll be in and out of there way before Colin gets done with his morning ritual," Alfred said, reminding Arthur of many unpleasant mornings when he'd find Colin using his bathroom to take a ridiculously long shower. (This along with the fact that Scotland didn't technically live with him would push England into a murderous rage, a rage that would usually grant him reprieve from his brother for at least two weeks.)

"You're absolutely right. We have all the time in the world. "

Alfred smiled in response and turned to the left. England raised and eyebrow.

"We're walking to your study today? I was under the impression you didn't know the concept," Arthur said. Alfred sighed, not taking the joke as well as he would have liked. By now, his indignant rage had cooled into a simmering resignation, one that Arthur suspected had more to do with their future plans than their previous spat.

"If things go wrong, I want to have as much energy on reserve as possible, " he stated quietly.

"Alfred, what aren't you telling me?" he asked, feeling far too vulnerable in Scotland's oversized clothes. England hadn't been this in the dark about what was going on around him since the Roman empire had been in charge of his affairs. And just like Rome, it was becoming far too likely that America might abandon him at a pivotal moment.

"A long time ago, India killed - the statue moved," Alfred said, voice becoming a high pitch squeak. By now, the two of them were half way up the hidden stairs, and Arthur was sure that Alfred would have already run down if he weren't in the way.

The statue in question was a Weeping Angel, a sinister creature that had quicky become infamous for quite literally taking away the life you would have lived and rudely dropping you in whatever time period it saw fit. England wasn't phased. The rest of the statues were still in place so obviously Scotland was playing a prank on them.

"Alfred, keep going upstairs, it's just Scotland trying to scare us," England said. Alfred shook his head. England rolled his eyes and pushed him forward, or at least he tried to, America didn't budge. He still got the message and relaxed,even if he remained weary.

"Cut it out, Scotland. You've pulled enough pranks for one day,"America said sternly. No answer. They both looked down, and England could admit that his heart jumped when he heard the rasping of stone against wood. They both turned around. Two of the statues had moved closer to them, and England cautiously began making his way back downstairs as best he could without taking his eyes off the angels.

"I could be wrong," England said. America laughed, clearly very nervous.

"Yeah," he said, taking the same approach as England to get down the steps. In his rush to escape the possibly cleverly disguised aliens, the boy tripped.

Then, everything became clear as a gloved hand reached for Alfred's arm. They had a visitor. One, he'd nearly forgotten about in the rush of countries coming and going through America's home. Canada looked no different than before, and even now, his eyes where filled with mirth. Matthew grabbed Alfred's arm and pulled him up and together with Arthur, helped steady him.

"You okay bro?" he asked. America still didn't seem to comprehend the situation and nodded, pointing at the statues shakily. With Scotland hastily joining them from behind one of the statues, England didn't have that problem.

"Having a little fun, you two?" he asked, shooting them a look of disapproval. As he probably should have expected after their last confrontation, Canada ignored him and talked to his brother. He was about to give him a proper scolding, but Scotland shook his head and put his arm around England's shoulder, giving him his own look. Now wasn't the time to speak.

"You should have seen the look on your face, Alfred. I see dabbling in sorcery didn't do you much good," Matthew said. Alfred nodded passively and walked passed him. His brother frowned, obviously not expecting such a lukewarm reception.

"It's not like you actually fell down the stairs, Alfred, lighten up," Matthew said, the slightest bit put off by Alfred's usual expressionless mask. Since America was determined to conserve as much magical energy as possible, he picked up one of the statues and proceeded to put it back in place manually. Canada rolled his eyes and picked up the other statue.

"These things are very tacky. I see why you keep them back here," Matthew said. Alfred gingerly placed the weeping angel back in place, using the layer of dust on the wooden floor as an indicator on where exactly it used to be. Matthew followed his example and did the same. After they finished, the two exchanged looks.

"When exactly did you come in?" Alfred asked casually.

"Why does it matter?" Matthew countered.

"I take security very seriously," Alfred said, waiting expectantly. At first, Arthur didn't believe Matthew would answer honestly, but Matthew surprised him by toning down his cynicism and muttering a reply.

"Scotland let me in."

Alfred turned to Colin who confirmed Matthew's story with a nod. America shook his head and if possible, looked even more irritated than when Australia had visited the day before.

"I figured as much," he said, attempting to keep his voice level despite his obvious annoyance with what had occurred. England probably would have been more sympathetic if he weren't stuck in Scotland's clothes currently.

"Then, why did you ask?"

"Because the people I let into my house cause enough trouble as it is," Alfred said. Hmm . . . perhaps, he was actually considering what England him told him a few minutes before. If so, Arthur had horrible timing. As Canada had not so subtly implied on his previous visit, he could cause them just as much trouble as any other country they'd dealt with in the last few days. Alfred snapping at Matthew now would not help their cause. He'd be far more useful to them as an ally than as a scorned third party.

"Oh, did someone finally grow a backbone?" Canada grinned, getting some sort of odd enjoyment from America's current frosty behavior. If England had to garner a guess, Canada was just as eager as he was for America to take more initiative and put his foot down.

"Are you here on business?" Alfred asked.

"Remember when you used to be excited to see me and didn't ask any questions?"

"We were five, Canada, get over it. To be honest, I was just excited to see you because you looked like me." Oddly enough, Canada's cheerful guise was a lot more fragile than he realized. Matthew looked liked he'd just been slapped in the face. He laughed bitterly.

"Ouch, Alfred, what did I ever do to you?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Again, England's position as an outsider hindered his understanding of the situation as Canada suddenly lost his nerve.

"Touche, although if it makes you feel better, what happened to Germany was never your fault, I would have interfered either way. Speaking of unintended consequences, how are things with you and Belarus? Did you ever clear up the misunderstanding or do you just want to stay unhappy forever? That's the vibe I get from you sometimes," Canada said.

"Cut to the chase, already, sometimes, I think you visit just to lower my self esteem," America said, unfortunately avoiding the question. Whatever happened between those two, he was definitely still sore about it although Arthur was far more worried about Alfred's sudden heavy heart at Germany's mention.

"Mon lapin, I think Arthur treating you like his mon chouchou has done far more damage to you than I ever could. In fact, that's why I'm here. He's been hanging around a lot from what I hear," Matthew said, turning to him. Arthur decided that it was his cue to step up when Alfred cut him off.

"So, you are here on business," Alfred said tiredly. From America's expression, these unplanned check ups happened often, and it also seemed to be one of the few things that Alfred couldn't stand. Considering the boy's high threshold for humiliation, he had to wonder what exactly about Canada set him off.

From England's perspective, he'd been one of the more tolerable visitors he'd come across. Now, that the matter had been resolved. He could even admit his entrance had been clever and probably, hadn't been intended to cause them any real harm. Arthur was sure that if he could examine the historical archives here that the answer would be fairly obvious. Even now, he suspected it wasn't so much Canada's actions that bothered America, but the country's mere presence. He wasn't part of the family anymore, and if anything he'd heard could be trusted, Canada wasn't an ally either simply because of America's association with Britain, particularly during World War two.

"Don't be so cold, Al. I'm looking out for you."

"I already passed up on that offer a long time ago,"he said, finally making his way downstairs. America didn't look back once. The prank had been enough to shatter any illusions that the statues may come to life apparently.

"Alfred, I just don't get you sometimes. You were this close to getting out of this idiot's clutches. And, what do you do? You decided to stay in your stupid gilded cage because the old's man's ego got a little bruised. " Huh, America's track record for rejecting offers to dissociate himself with Britain had started long before his arrival, England found this troubling. Uncouth or not, his ties to Great Britain were strong.

"Excuse me, if I didn't think ending up with you instead was the prize of the century, I knew if I held on just a little longer -"

"That India would end up in the same boat as you, penniless despite being wealthy, and owned, despite being powerful, I would have treated you right. I don't understand why you don't trust me, even if -"

"Don't you even try to justify your actions. I don't want to hear it. You saw me. I'm fine. Leave now,"Alfred shouted, no longer visible from England's viewpoint on top of the stairs. Canada didn't take America's suggestion to leave well and scowled, scrapping his nails against the stair railing.

"You've been awfully quiet old man. I was sure you'd snap at me already. " England didn't bother to speak as he knew Scotland would cut in.

"What can I say? He's already lost his voice from hollering at me this morning. Left him stranded in the grass as naked as a-"

"I think that's quite enough," Arthur said, making his voice as raspy as possible to go with the lie. This new little tidbit was enough to distract Matthew who's smile suddenly turned wicked.

"And how exactly did you end up in Scotland's clothes, Great Britain?"

"Magic," he said tonelessly. Canada lost his enthusiasm. Apparently, Arthur's simple answer had sucked the fun out of the situation for him. He probably had guessed that Arthur wasn't the only who ended up unclothed this morning. Matthew patted his back on his way downstairs.

"I'll let you get changed then. I'm sure your noble sensibilities can't handle Scotland's particular musk. You coming, uncle Colin?" he asked. Scotland followed him downstairs, and the two started a lively discussion concerning their last visit to a pub. At some point, Matthew had ended up in bed with a black Doberman although he was out of earshot before he could hear the end of that story.

England didn't feel comfortable leaving America alone with Canada downstairs for too long and rushed to his room. Even if he visited often, he had a feeling that the way Canada's visit ended could ultimately be the deciding factor on whether America would be pleasant for the remainder of the week or snappish and withdrawn, until they left for India. The two had a lot of baggage, and it didn't seem like they would resolve their issues anytime soon. It would be best if Arthur could shoo Matthew away, possibly by reminding him of why he left in the first place.

As far as he could tell, Canada wasn't overly suspicious of him yet, and England felt he could really pull it off because of this. Clearly, Matthew didn't see him often enough to notice if he was acting any differently or not, although small things like biting his tongue right now seemed to be tipping him off that something was amiss. Oh well, it couldn't be helped. England was genuinely interested in their conversation and interfering would have along prolonged the argument. He slammed the door open and rushed inside, putting on the first suit he could pull out of the wardrobe. Once he was dressed, he headed back downstairs. Thankfully, the situation hadn't really changed. Canada and Scotland were chatting it up while America was slowly planning to drink himself into a stupor. Yeah, England wasn't going to let that happen.

"Hey, Arthur, so nice of you to get dressed for us, I didn't think you'd come down while I was still here, " Canada said. England rolled his eyes and sat down next to America, taking away the alcohol so he could pour himself a glass.

"I get it. You're not going to talk to me are you?"

"If drinking dulls the pain, I'll let you, but I'd rather you didn't give me away," Arthur whispered to Alfred. By the looks of it, he was only on his second glass.

"I'm fine for now. I get a little too chatty when I drink. I should stop, " Alfred said, keeping his voice low. Canada decided to take his heckling a bit further and wedged between them.

"What are you two talking about? And, why aren't you mad at Alfred?"

"Should I be?" England asked. America's eyes widened in realization and winced.

"You don't let him drink. What changed? Rumor has it you've been hexed. That doesn't seem so far fetched to me now. You've been a little too quiet, Arthur," Canada said. England laughed, grabbing hold of America and clamping his mouth shut before he could panic and give them away.

"We're celebrating. He's coming with me when I head over to India next week," Arthur said, taking a shot of whiskey. Canada raised an eyebrow.

"About that, weren't you supposed to do that a few days ago?" he challenged. Arthur smiled lazily, pouring himself another drink. He knew his alcohol tolerance and paced himself, holding the small shot glass in his hand without taking a sip.

"I do what I please, Canada. Isn't that why I irritate you so much?" Canada scoffed and glanced at his brother who probably looked a little too relieved when Arthur finally unhanded him.

"There's a little more to it than that," Matthew said quietly, sounding quite a bit softer than usual although his voice wasn't nearly as inaudible as Canada's voice could get when he got in such a mood.

"America isn't exactly the best choice to take with you or is this your way of punishing him for some insignificant transgression?" Canada asked. America tensed and spoke up.

"I volunteered. I'm sure you've heard by now that things are going to change. I was feeling grateful." This seemed to ease Canada's doubts, and he shrugged.

"Yeah, I heard. It doesn't mean I think anything will actually change, but I'll celebrate with you if you like," he said, getting a shot glass for Scotland and himself. England said nothing. He didn't want to start another conflict. America had other ideas.

"Why do you think that? Or does the art of negotiation still fail you when it comes to Great Britain? He's really not as bad as you think he is." Canada took a shot of whiskey.

"He's the one that doesn't want to talk to me if you haven't noticed."

"I'm afraid I'm not in the mood to talk," England said, pretending his voice was horse to continue the charade. America unfortunately hadn't been made privy to this particular lie.

"What happened to your voice?"

"He lost his voice this morning because he was hollering at me. Don't you remember lad? Or did you repress the memory already?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess I was enjoying the silence," Alfred said. It didn't dawn on him that what he said could be taken the wrong way until a few seconds after he said it.

"Amen, the old man talks way too much," Canada said. England decided not to address the issue. He honestly didn't care. Matthew frowned.

"Still, even if your voice box is on the fritz, you've been surprisingly tolerant of me. Don't tell me you're going soft. "

"What can I say? I don't hate you as much as I let on," England said. Scotland upon seeing Canada's shocked expression decided to change the subject.

" So, would you like to stay a few days? Things can get a little stuffy with just those two for company." This time, both England and America became alarmed. They were on a schedule.

"Uncle Scotland, I would appreciate it if you didn't give out invitations to stay here without discussing it with me first," America said. England sighed, knowing exactly what trick Scotland would use to get away with it.

"He's family. Don't tell me you would turn away your own flesh and blood?"

"I- he doesn't exactly-"

"Thanks for the offer, uncle Scotland, but I think America's made it very clear he doesn't want me here. Again, congratulations, on temporarily getting on the old man's good side, don't come crying to me when he disappoints you, again," Canada said, taking a final shot of whiskey.

"Matthew, you can stay if you like," Arthur said, aware he was playing a very dangerous game, but if what Scotland had told him the other day was true, England would prefer to have Canada on his side when Russia visited. Sure, Alfred would be busy with elections, but he'd already shown that he was capable of handling the necessary details himself. England could spend his free time mending Great Britain's relationship with Canada when America didn't need advising.

Canada appeared dumbfounded by England's words as if he hadn't quite heard him right. America on the other hand looked ready to murder him.

"I don't want him here," he hissed. England drank his whiskey and smirked.

"You said it yourself. He's lonely. Besides, can you really think of anyone else you'd rather have on your side when Russia comes knocking on your door?"

This was enough to make him hold his tongue, realizing that England was implementing a strategy of his own. Despite this, the thought of Canada staying in his house was enough to make him want another drink, and he poured himself a glass. Scotland wrapped his arm around Canada.

"So, what do you say laddie? Would you like to stay for a few days?"

Canada pulled himself together, and looked at England thoughtfully before turning to his brother. And then, he did something that England was sure any other country wouldn't bother to do in his position. He actually asked what America wanted.

"Do you mind if I stay? Say the word, and I'll leave."

"I guess not. I have the room."

"Tell me the truth," Canada said, highly annoyed.

"I really don't mind you being here," America said. England couldn't tell if he was lying or not. Judging by Canada's expression, he was having similar problems.

"You heard him. Everything is golden. Now, I want to take you to this pub where everybody knows your name," Scotland said, starting to ramble on. Canada nodded here and there, never officially acknowledging whether he was staying or not. The four of them left to said pub and returned a few hours later. On his way upstairs, Canada approached him.

"I need to know or it's going to drive me crazy. Why the sudden change of heart?"

England hesitated, knowing his answer could very well give him away.

"There comes a point in one's life when you realize it's time to let go of old grudges," he said, shooting Canada a meaningful look.

"Huh, I think I've reached that point," Canada said, passing him and heading upstairs.

* * *

><p>America wanted to cry. This wasn't going well at all. Twice now, they'd met the conditions, and not one of them, could really say what either situation had in common with the other. Well, actually, Alfred did have an idea, but he was afraid to voice it aloud and break the relative peace they'd had since taking Colin hostage. Man, they had a messed up family dynamic.<p>

"Hey, I think I know what you have to do," Alfred said. Arthur had just gotten out of bed and yawned, not particularly excited. Scotland either had managed to escape in the middle of the night or hadn't woken up yet.

"Really? Enlighten me, please," Arthur said, preparing his tea, making sure to pick a brand with caffeine in it. Alfred decided that he didn't want to go through a lot of effort this morning and poured himself a bowl of cereal. Arthur started making eggs.

"You have to listen to me," Alfred said. There was not indignant rage as he expected.

"I am, go on. I can do two things at once," Arthur said.

"No, I mean those are the conditions," Alfred said.

For a while, Arthur said nothing, and they ate in peace. Alfred got impatient around the time Arthur began washing the dishes.

"What do you think?" Alfred asked.

"That we are on our own," he said, passing him Scotland's note. Colin had stuck it under a magnet on the fridge.

_I'm heading home. I hope Arthur doesn't take my leaving too hard. I just don't think you need me around, and I have a feeling he is well on his way to going home. Good luck, lad, I know you can handle things. _

_Love,_

_Scotland_

"I thought that might happen. You're not upset are you?"

Arthur shook his head and took a sip of tea.

"I know I'm not the best company."

"Don't say that. You're not so bad, once you tone down your self entitled attitude," Alfred said. Arthur glanced at the window wearily.

"We might as well test your theory. Tell me to do something," Arthur said.

"Okay, last time, it was something that you really didn't want to do so . . . let's visit Canada."

"You're dead to me," Britain said flatly.

"Come on, Canada is one of the nicest people I've ever met. I know you've had problems with him over there, but I promise you won't regret it," America begged. Sure, there was plenty that could go wrong, but if Scotland's visit had taught him anything, it was that he better have a third person with him at all times.

"I suppose if it will get me home. I wouldn't mind visiting him briefly," Arthur relented.

"Okay, first, I want to go over some ground rules," America said. To Britain's credit, he was taking the new situation in stride as he continued to put away the dishes, even if deep down he might want to yell at him for his insolence.

"Fine, if it will put you at ease, state your terms."

"I'll keep it simple. No threatening him or resorting to violence during our visit. I don't want you wandering off and getting yourself lost. We can take a late night flight if it will keep you from freaking out, but eventually we will have to go out in broad day light. Also, I decide how long we stay, got it? "

"Fine, but there is no need to go to the airport. I can teleport us there," Arthur said casually, and America just couldn't picture it, despite repeatedly being threatened by green balls of energy a couple of days ago.

"Yeah right, I've already seen you try and get some place with magic. Don't embarrass yourself," Alfred said, already looking up ticket prices online. Heh, he had a stricter budget ever since the Christmas party. Prussia inadvertently crashing into the White House will do that.

"You don't think I can do it," Arthur said smugly.

"Nope," Alfred said, deciding between booking a ridiculously long flight for cheap or a moderately priced flight in first class that wouldn't put him in such close quarters with Arthur.

Britain snapped his fingers, and he disappeared from sight. America couldn't help but panic when he couldn't spot him in the immediate vicinity. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on him.

"Arthur? Are you still here?" he asked. Maybe, he hadn't gone very far.

"Over here, I went to get a paper." Arthur said, opening the front door, holding the paper triumphantly in his hands. Alfred knew that Arthur couldn't have possibly sneaked out without him noticing, let alone, disappear at will without outside help.

"So, I was wrong, but Canada is really far away. I don't want you to strain yourself," America said. So what if part of the reason was that he was uncomfortable with the idea. Alfred wasn't exactly overly familiar with magic himself, even if he had witnessed it a few times. As far as he could tell, most of the time, it wasn't something Arthur relied on either.

"I have a lot of energy reserves. It shouldn't be a problem," Britain said.

"Do you do this a lot?" he asked, slightly anxious. Getting back instantly was tempting but he didn't want to try it if there was a lot of risk involved.

"Alfred, don't be nervous. Nothing will go wrong." America didn't feel that was something people said when they knew what they were doing.

"Then, why would you mention it?"

Arthur laughed and poked him in the chest with his newspaper.

"Because you panic easily," Arthur said, making him self conscious. Alfred's low tolerance for the spooky was quite well known, and he didn't appreciate being teased about it.

"You don't know that," Alfred pouted.

"There's a spider on your shoulder," Arthur said. He instantly scrambled to remove it when he felt something crawl behind his back.

"Get it off, get it off, get it off," he shouted, taking his shirt off. It became obvious that Britain had simply stuck a plastic spider on his back to prove a point.

"That wasn't funny," Alfred said, ripping the spider off his shirt before putting it back on. Arthur wasn't the least bit sorry.

"Not to you obviously, now, take hold of my hand and whatever you do, don't let go," Arthur said. Did Britain really expect America to trust him after that?

"I can still book us a flight for tomorrow," he said, inching toward the computer.

_ "_America, trust me, this will be faster." Arthur grabbed hold of his shoulder, and he knew from previous experience that it would not be easy to pry himself loose. He sighed dejectedly.

"I'm not sure if this is worth the trouble," he muttered, taking hold of Arthur's hand. Doing so, made him feel childish, but Alfred developed a death grip on his hand as they traveled to parts unknown. The multicolored mess made his eyes hurt, and he was glad when the weightless sensation ended, and they were back on the ground. The place looked familiar, and America realized he was back home.

"Wow, we're in Louisiana. You suck at this," Alfred said, not exactly unhappy to be back home, even if this wasn't exactly where he expected to end up today.

"But this is where Canada lives," Arthur said. Alfred very much enjoyed seeing Arthur's expression slowly change as it dawned on him that he was sorely mistaken.

"You haven't been paying attention at all have you?" America grinned.

"Hold on, I can get this right. He still lives in his cabin then?"Arthur asked.

America looked behind him sadly. He wasn't ready to go home yet, not when they had a dimensional mix up on their hands, and his England still wasn't home.

"Yeah, but just to be safe, why don't I give you some coordinates?" Alfred said, and sure enough, Arthur recognized the place.

"Yes, it's definitely the same place, brace yourself, the ride might get bumpy," Arthur said, latching onto his hand.

"What?" he asked, but it was far too late to protest as they once again traveled through some pocket dimension ( or at least, he assumed so from what he saw. ) This time, they arrived after being tossed and turned around in an influx, and despite being battered and bruised from the trip, America put on a happy face when he saw Canada, a face he wasn't sure he'd see again during his brief stint as a hostage.

"Look Canada, we did a Harry Potter," he said happily. Now that it was over, he felt energized as if he wanted to run until the rush of energy faded.

"Yes, and it was both disturbing and impressive. Why did you bring him into my house? He had a mental breakdown a few days ago, and if you don't remember, he tried to kill me," Canada said.

Oh right, that, America didn't think it'd be such a big deal. Most of the countries that had dealt with the situation knew right away Arthur wasn't himself. Of course, he was the only one outside of England's immediate contacts that knew he wasn't from here. Alfred had tried to tell Matthew as much, but he'd dismissed it quickly.

"Contrary to what you people seem to believe, I don't have the memory of a goldfish. He's over it," Alfred reassured him. Apparently, America's overly casual explanation sent Canada over the edge as he slowly headed for the closet that held his hockey stick.

"You believe that," Canada said, completely appalled that America would take England's word for it and bring him here. People never gave him the benefit of the doubt when it came to this kind of thing.

"I don't want to kill you Matthew. Now, if you were from my world, that would be a different story," Arthur cut in. Yeah, Britain wasn't helping the situation any.

"So, Arthur is delusional like you said and now, so are you. Great, I definitely got up this morning thinking I need to practice my psychiatric skills today,"Canada said, grabbing the hockey stick from the closet as a kind of security blanket and sitting on the couch. America joined him, taking out the letter his double wrote.

"Canada, this letter literally appeared out of thin air in my handwriting," Alfred said, showing him proof. Matthew read the note, still struck by disbelief.

"You're pranking me, aren't you? Well, you got me. Drop the act, Alfred,"Canada said, warning evident in his voice. He would use the hockey stick if he had to.

"What's it going to take to convince you I'm not lying?" Alfred asked.

"Can you get your bear away from me?" Arthur asked, already attempting to push the polar bear away, but Kumajiro remained adamant and continued to paw at him. Canada picked him up and muttered an apology.

"He smells funny. I don't think he's from here," Kumajiro said.

"See, Kumajiro believes us," Alfred said, and Matthew looked at them like everyone he knew had gone insane.

" I'm sorry, but you want me to accept that he is from an alternate world where he'd rather kill me than see us getting along," Canada said, giving him another chance to drop the subject.

"When you put it that way, I can see why you're skeptical," Alfred said, wondering if it was really worth it to convince Matthew they weren't lying. Arthur had been fairly manageable as of late, and they were really only testing out his theory.

"Let me handle this. Canada I know you can be very stubborn, and based on the few days I've spent with him, I don't blame you for being skeptical, but perhaps, this recording will change your mind," he said, taking out a tape recorder America didn't know he had.

"Alfred, come on sing with us," Canada's voice said through the speaker, loud and clear. This was surprising enough for Canada but what he heard next nearly made his jaw drop.

"I don't think-"

"Come on, it's the holidays. Sing with us," Canada begged.

"I don't think St. Patrick's day is really a reason to drink. And if you think about it, what does drinking have to do-"

"Oh, so, my holiday isn't good enough for you to drink to?" Ireland interrupted

"I never said that, but you all didn't used to drink today until Canada started celebrating it," America said, completely on the defensive.

"There are more Irish people in my country than in Ireland. If we decide to make it a drinking holiday, then, you have to respect it. Now, drink, until you're drunk enough to sing," Canada said. Britain paused the tape.

"I'll skip ahead," he fast forwarded. Canada stayed quiet for now.

"God Bless, Ireland, land that I love, I'll stand by you and drink beside ya, " America sang, and America nearly burst into laughter. Canada shook his head.

"Okay, I get the point. So, maybe, there is more to this than I knew. What do you expect me to do about it?" he asked

"Nothing really, just accept it, we only came to visit you," Alfred said.

"Why?"

"We have a theory that he can go home after he does enough things he doesn't want to do," America said. He could feel Canada slowly getting more passive aggressive.

"I feel so loved," he mumbled.

"I promised not to use violence against you if it makes you feel better," Arthur piped up. Alfred had to wonder how much social interaction he had if really thought that would cheer Canada up.

"Not really," he said, getting extremely frustrated by the whole thing. This wasn't what Alfred had in mind when he thought up the idea. He wanted them to get along, and by extension, maybe, Britain could reach out to Canada in his own universe.

"Come on, Canada, chill out, I just want you to talk to him," America said, pleading with his eyes. His brother caved. Running his finger through his hair, he looked Britain over. For now, he didn't look like much of a threat, and he was certainly a lot calmer than when he arrived.

"I guess I'll play along. So, Britain is there anything you want to ask me?"

"Are you happy with the way things are?"

"Yeah, I guess I can't complain. It's not perfect but it's my life you know," Canada said.

"I get what you mean. I rather miss my old life as well. I'm wondering if I'll ever get to return to it," Britain said.

"You will or the other me wouldn't have signaled that we've made some progress," America said. Canada raised an eyebrow, forcibly keeping Kumajiro from wandering into Britain's lap, apparently he also smelled like inside.

"How did he do that?"

"Star stickers," America replied. Canada snorted.

"Yeah, he doesn't sound that different from you."

"He is," Britain said, matter of factly.

"Oh, what makes you say that?"

"He's not as honest for one thing. I don't think for a second that I'm anywhere close to getting home. Alfred knows me too well," Britain said.

"Just because he screwed you over once doesn't mean he is dishonest or deliberately sabotaging you, not that I know the guy or anything," Alfred amended. He should probably butt out. Things were obviously very different there. Maybe, his double's intentions weren't completely noble, but he didn't think he meant Britain any harm either.

"This isn't the first time he's deceived me," Arthur said.

"What happened?" Canada asked. Britain refused to elaborate and stayed quiet.

"You can't say something like that and not tell us anything," Alfred said.

"Don't you want to be a good guest and keep me entertained? Tell me about Alfred's inevitable betrayal," Canada said.

"Hey," America said, not appreciating the comment. It's not like he actively tried to piss people off most of the time. Alfred's interests sometimes just didn't match up with everyone else's.

"We aren't talking about you, not really," Canada said. Right, he just assumed that the America over there had done something that drastic. For all they knew, Alfred had simply stolen Arthur's bagel and blamed it on Matthew or something.

"He gets attached to people easily, and he has done stupid things because of it," Arthur said, likely thinking of times long gone.

"This isn't about the revolutionary war is it?"

"Actually, I was thinking farther ahead, but I suppose that counts to, in away, although that had more to do with our own inner struggles. He simply wasn't happy, and I guess I wasn't either, to be honest," Arthur said. The confession gave Alfred some faith that he'd learned something since coming here if he could admit America wasn't completely at fault for the ordeal.

"Oh, well, fess up, what did he do that was so bad?"Alfred asked genuinely curious. Arthur hadn't been very detailed about his double's life.

"It wasn't bad, per say, just naive," Arthur alleged, still mulling it over in his head. The two waited for him to continue when Kumajiro slapped him with his paw.

"Spill it pops," the bear yelled. Canada restrained him.

"Kumajiro, that's rude," he scolded.

"What? This is obviously a cry for attention," Kumajiro said. Arthur sighed, rubbing his cheek.

"Honestly, the story is a bit personal. I'm not sure if I should share it. There wouldn't be much point to it. Something sad happened, the end," Arthur said.

"Please," Alfred said, inadvertently appealing to the old man's parental instincts.

"Fine, but try not to interrupt, it's not a moment I'm particularly proud of. Frankly, it's what finally broke America," Arthur admitted. Alfred's chest tightened as he considered whether or not he should really hear this story. He needed to help Arthur, and something like this could make him much less sympathetic.

"Go ahead, we'll try not to talk. Right Canada?" His brother nodded.

"I make no such promises," Kumajiro said. Canada stood up.

"That's it. You're going outside."

"Nooo, something interesting is happening," the bear whined. Matthew opened the door and put him outside. The bear didn't struggle and instead pouted, making his eyes huge. Canada hesitated for a moment before closing the door.

"Sorry about that, he can get a little chatty."

"Don't worry about it. I suppose I should clarify the time frame for this particular venture," Arthur said.

"That'd be a good start," Alfred said. Matthew offered him some water. He took a swig and reached into his pocket, taking out his wallet. Inside was a picture he wasn't expecting to see, America with an Indian girl.

"That is Tara, his informal ayah, that I hired to look after him. The two of them were seeing each other secretly," Arthur said. Matthew finally put the hockey stick down and bit his lip.

"This isn't going to end well is it?"

America took the black and white picture, and much like every other portrait he'd seen at the time, the two were stiff and expressionless. Back then, all that really mattered was that you didn't move and mess up the shot. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. His double's life had gone in a different direction than his. So, he guessed that it didn't really matter what he thought, only how this might affect Britain's return home. America had a feeling it was the only reason they were hearing this story.

"I didn't handle it well, no. In fact, I could have easily let it slide, and maybe, he wouldn't have become the detached figure that didn't think twice about leaving me in this alien universe, " Arthur said bitterly.

"What did you do?" Alfred asked. Arthur continued to share a deep and meaningful gaze with the floor as he still refused to look at either of them when he spoke.

"When I found out, I talked to India. The girl was from a lower caste, and it was easy enough to marry her off at my request," England said. America sighed in relief. That wasn't such a bad ending to his other's self brief romance. He could think of much worse endings, including some he'd dealt with himself.

"You shouldn't feel too bad about that. She was human. Their relationship wouldn't have lasted long either way. You did him a favor," Alfred said. Matthew was far more skeptical.

"That isn't the end of the story is it?"Arthur finally took his eyes off the floor and looked at them both with a resigned sort of melancholy.

"No, as you can probably guess, one of the many aspects of India that I wasn't entirely comfortable with reared its ugly head. At first, the arrangement went smoothly enough. She was taken, and Alfred was angry."

"Funny, I thought he didn't have that emotion," Alfred said, more than aware of his double's angelic reputation. It was something that had upset him when he'd first heard about it. As Britain's stay continued, he had less energy to feel real outrage over how his other's self acted over there and simply accepted it as fact. Apparently, Britain's previous remarks weren't entirely true. His rebellious streak had lasted longer than Arthur led on.

"He wasn't broken yet," Arthur finished.

"What broke him?" Canada asked, almost inaudible.

"She married because what else could she do really? India had done her best to find the girl a suitable husband, and it was an offer her family wouldn't have let her refuse. But while Alfred was heart broken, he would have recovered well enough, except perhaps for some underlying resentment if-"

"If what?" Alfred asked. Arthur scowled.

"What did I say about interrupting?"

"Not to," Alfred and Matthew answered simultaneously. Arthur rolled his eyes and continued.

"Her husband hadn't died shortly after."

"Why would that be a problem? " America said, before it dawned on him what exactly happened to widowed Indian girls in the eighteen hundreds.

"She was burned at the stake, as I had not yet been there long enough for my people to put an end to the sati custom. Sati would be outlawed a few decades later, but of course, that was far too late for Alfred to really care. He never forgave India for letting it happen,"Arthur said. The bear scratched at the door. Britain finished his water while the two brothers shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"I yelled at him of course. Told him it was his fault for leading the girl on, and he shouldn't have befriended her in the first place. He took my words to heart. America shied away from human interaction and began to solely look to countries for company which leads us to the complicated situation we have now," Arthur said, getting up.

"Can we leave now? I'm not in the mood to talk anymore," Arthur said honestly. America nodded, patting Canada in the back.

"Sorry for that huge bummer, next time I visit, I'll make sure we have a good time," America promised. Canada didn't answer and picked up the hockey stick from the floor.

"You don't think Alfred would take advantage of the situation and drag England to India do you?" Matthew asked. Arthur looked out the window and considered the question seriously.

"A few days ago, I would have said no. The boy doesn't like confrontation," Arthur said.

"But?" he asked.

"Now, I think he would," Arthur said. The star sticker appeared on his hand when he opened the door. Alfred gulped, thinking of Arthur getting dragged to a strange foreign place without any real help in sight.

"What do you know another star, and I'm still not home. You were half right,"Arthur said wryly. Alfred nodded and followed him out.

"Good luck," Canada said as the bear dashed in and just as quickly followed them out to satisfy his own curiosity. America grabbed hold of Britain's hand, feeling more like he was comforting the old man than anything else. Alfred smiled at Matthew, feeling a little guilty for burdening him with information that he could do nothing about.

"Thanks we're going to need it." Then, they poofed out of existence and the last thing America saw was Canada pick up the bear and head inside.


	11. When Things Can Only Get Worse

When Things Can Only Get Worse

England awoke to a ruckus that he couldn't quite identify. He grumbled to himself as the bickering continued, wondering if this Alfred had finally developed a backbone. Only after he dressed and continued downstairs did he notice the voices he heard were not at all familiar. He entered the living room to find the place completely renovated. The furniture had been removed, and in its place was a stage and two podiums where the two young candidates he'd previously read about argued about the respective issues that would dominate the election. Ah, the primaries must be over, but he still didn't understand why exactly they'd been invited to the house. Surely, it was far too early for a public debate. He'd seen no evidence of any sort of campaigning, albeit he'd been preoccupied, considering the other guests currently residing in Alfred's home. Said person stepped inside and sat down at a desk presumably to act as a moderator.

"Thankfully, most of my respective guests like to sleep in so we have some time to prepare. We are entering the world stage. I will not have you ruin it with any kind of idiotic mudslinging. Do you understand? " Alfred asked. They both nodded in agreement without showing the slightest hint of resistance. Oh dear, he'd stumbled into the middle of a rehearsal. Once again, he was left with the feeling that things would be run in a less than democratic way.

"Alfred, are you sure this is the way you want to go about things? The point of an election is to elect leaders that represent the people, not hire the best actors," He asked, hoping Alfred would get the hint. He sported his best conquering smile and said,

"If you could leave questions until after the debate, I'd very much appreciate it." Sigh. He was getting bolder. Arthur would concede that, and yet, it only made him increasingly weary of his current predicament. For good or ill, Arthur's fate was directly tied to Alfred's.

"You can't expect Great Britain to respect us if we do not respect ourselves. If America is to survive on its own, we need to reach out to new allies and forgo our remaining ties to our previous overlords. Once we can understand and connect with other countries, we can continue to trade for what we need and live in peace without the need of Britain's vast empire and protection, only then can we truly be free."

As expected, the girl was hostile to Great Britain and eager to find support elsewhere. England glanced at Alfred who nodded absently and signaled for the other one to begin. He wasn't sure of what to make of his seeming indifference. Perhaps, he was trying to remain impartial?

"You speak of freedom without truly knowing what the word means. Rejecting our mother country's aid will only make us struggle when we should be thriving. Our friends are Britain's friends, her enemies, our enemies. You are a fool if you think we can force our own alliances when for decades we have stuck by Britain. We will inherit her enemies but not her friends if we abide by your wishful politics."

"Have they not met Britain? " he asked. It would explain why he'd been virtually ignored so far. Alfred gave him a knowing look.

"Technically, they are meeting you right now. I advised them to act as if you weren't present for the sake of realism. Besides, it's traditional for countries to be referred to as female, you know that. They'll be speaking to the people, not us. "

Oh right, he'd grown so used to people knowing who he was that the obvious hadn't occurred to him. Alfred then returned his attention to the candidates. His general mood shifting from indifferent to disapproving in an instant.

"You're getting too personal, Callahan. Please rephrase your response into a more civil tone. The debate is to inform people, not rile them up into a frenzy. I will not have this turn into a popularity contest."

"I believe the people need to know the character of their future leader" Callahan said, a hint of smugness filtering through his forever hopeful facade. And, just like that, Alfred's disapproval turned into general condescension.

"And, they will if you don't constantly deflect questions by insisting Ms Corazon is an idiotic idealist when in fact you are both idiotic idealists. You can't know what you will be dealing with until you get elected into office." Alfred said. Previously, stoic and in control, the girl immediately stuttered in surprise.

"Sir, you can't possibly believe that. We were chosen-" Ms Corazon insisted before Alfred continued his lecture with a vengeance.

"Because, people like you. Ultimately, you both have the same goal, just different ways to get there. Please don't forget that as we move forward," Alfred said. Hmm, England finally understood. America's sudden coldness. He was trying to be professional, but at most, he was alienating the candidates by treating them like children.

"Okay, America, I'll start again. I'm sorry I spoke out of term," Callahan answered, savvy enough to know that provoking America would only prolong the tedious debate.

"Show me you can answer my questions without getting defensive and everything will be just peachy," Alfred said, sporting a disarming smile that didn't quite mask his passive aggressive tendencies.

"I do not get defensive," Callahan said, unable to completely bypass Alfred's hostility.

"There he goes again," Arthur said with feigned impatience. He hadn't spoken in a while and if he had learned one thing, it was that Britain wasn't the forgiving sort. The boy turned a shade paler at his mild criticism.

"I'll make sure not to disappoint you this time," Callahan said to America although his eyes hadn't left him. Knowing Callahan was nervous. Alfred reassured him softly.

"I represent a lot of people. It's rather hard not to, just do your best."

"I'd never disappoint you, Alfred," Alejandra cut in, aware his attention was not on her. Alfred didn't appreciate the interruption.

"Wait your turn before addressing me. Callahan, you may speak. " The girl was baffled by stern reply as if she'd just been scolded by a good friend. The young man cleared his throat and did what must have been an impromptu rewrite of his previous speech. It wasn't too bad all things considered.

"Freedom does not mean abandoning all ties to who we are. Our new independence does not mean we stop being Britons. We must not reject our mother country's friendship. For so long, our enemies have been her enemies, our friends, her friends. There is no reason to struggle when we are thriving. So, ask yourself, do you want to thrive or do you want to starve? " he asked, glancing at America who proceeded to give him a sarcastic clap.

"Much better, I almost believed you were sincere."

Frustrated by Alfred blatantly insulting words, he stubbornly replied.

"I am." He was ignored. America asked the other candidate to proceed as if nothing had occurred.

"Ms Corazon, would you like to rebuttal?"

"It would be my pleasure" she said, once again assured Callahan wasn't anymore favored than she was.

"I still don't like her." Arthur muttered, the dislike strengthened by his ever growing survival instincts. He would not be safe if she was elected.

"Shush," Alfred said, putting a finger to his lips.

"People of these newly founded United States of America, we no longer need Britain to hold our hand. We do not need to be told who to play with and who we should avoid. These are our decisions now. With these responsibilities, there must be change. There is no need for us to dutifully pay Britain for our protection when we are the ones that do the protecting. We are warriors. It is time we started acting like the powerful nation we are. We fill not fall if we turn our back on Britain. We will finally stand."

For a moment, Alfred's purposely gruff exterior cracked, and the boy was in awe. As soon as this emotion appeared, America pushed it down and returned to a calculated calm that he'd been practicing all his life. It was troubling to say the least.

"Truly an excellent speech, but I'm afraid we'll have to make some changes. You sounded a bit too much like a war monger for my taste, and war is the last thing this country needs right now."

"Alfred, let them say what they mean. This is an election for heaven's sake, not your own personal puppet show," Arthur said, getting tired of this sham of a debate. They were allowed to have their own opinions, damn it. No matter how much one of the candidates filled him with anxiety about his future. The girl took his words the wrong way, naturally.

"He can't control you anymore." Alejandra said. After briefly glancing at her rage filled face, Alfred stood between him and Ms Corazon to act as a much needed buffer between them.

"And for now, neither can you."

"You could be so happy if you believed for one second you could stand on your own. Please tell me I'm not wasting my time on you because I refuse to believe in someone who doesn't believe in himself," Alejandra said, expressing the passion that had been bubbling under the surface since he'd heard her speak.

"That's enough," America said, even more forceful than he'd been when arguing about their choice of words. The tension was palpable.

"For heaven's sake, I was defending you," he grumbled, rather annoyed by her irrational dislike of him (although the feeling was mutual.) Of course, Britain more than likely had done more than enough to earn that kind of ire. He was worthy of such ire once; in some ways, he still was.

"Relax Britain, I've got this. Ms Corazon, please do not to interrupt again, and I suggest you let go of that murderous look in your eyes before I deport you and send a runner up in you place, " he said, threatening her with what seemed like rather illegal measures.

"Sir, I will stay out of your business until the day it becomes my business, and for your sake, I hope that day comes very soon,," she said as confident as she was stress inducing.

"Hold on, Alfred, you can't kick her out of the country," he said, expressing what he felt was a very valid concern. America answered flippantly.

"Yes, I can."

"Did you even read the constitution before you put it on the internet?" Arthur said, rather exasperated. He wasn't privy to all of America's various laws, but he was fairly sure he couldn't deport natural born citizens without cause.

"I made a few changes. We have such a high number of immigrants; it hardly seemed fair to bar them from the presidency for that reason alone. Ms Corazon wasn't born here. When she signed the contract letting her come here, she agreed that she could be cast out for any reason should problems arise. I can send her away whenever I wish. I like being able to nix someone before they become a problem. It helps me keep the peace."

"I suppose it's within your rights, but I still do not understand why you are insisting on such extreme measures in the first place."

"I will not make a spectacle of my country," America said with such a frightening conviction that England was starting to worry about his sanity again.

"Alfred, you can't control every single thing that happens. It'll drive you mad."

"I've been mad. Trust me, I'm fine. Now, if you excuse me, we were in the middle of a debate before you graciously offered your opinion, sir," Alfred said, subtly telling him to butt out.

"Very well, carry on, I'll leave my comments till the end," Arthur said, knowing better than to push while Alejandra and Callahan were present.

"See that you do, now, Arthur. Ms Corazon, we rely heavily on imports. Where do you expect to get the supplies now?"

"I think we are both aware of the black market in this country. Considering your current guest, perhaps its time to strengthen our bonds with Canada."

Again, Alfred seemed ready to explode, particularly at the mention of his brother. His sighed, disappointment evident.

"Please remember you'll be speaking to my people, not me personally. I can guarantee you nothing."

Ms Corazon had quite enough of Alfred's dismissals and came uncomfortably close to him, ready for combat. Arthur chose not to interfere since the boy had made it quite clear he wanted to handle this alone. He would enjoy seeing him squirm.

"I didn't come here to speak to an imaginary audience. I came to speak to you," she said. Their eager cooperation in this silly debate suddenly became far more understandable to England. They were looking to get under his skin and gain an advantage.

"Then, you grossly misunderstand the meaning of my existence," he said, sightly amused. Technically, whoever was elected would be his boss, not the other way around.

"Don't' pretend that you have no influence over the country. America is literally your name," she demanded. He wasn't in the mood to explain apparently because he immediately turned to Callahan and signaled for him to continue.

"Either way, you've made your feelings clear. Callahan, you've been quiet. Why don't you go ahead and say your piece? I assume you have similar motives for coming here,"

"Alfred, I'm not going to pretend I understand what you want. I can only tell you what I believe is best for you. Come the election, I'll know if you agree with the path I want to take you on or not. I came here because I know you're nervous about your future, and I wanted to put you at ease, but maybe, we should cut the rehearsal short since we both have a few questions of our own."

"Agreed, thank you both for indulging me. Help yourselves to breakfast. I will be right with you," Alfred said, looking somewhat relieved to no longer be on the spot.

"Don't take too long," Alejandra said. He smirked and replied rather brazenly.

"I'll take as long as I need, Ms Corazon."

"We'll prepare you a plate," Callahan said, proving again to be the less abrasive one.

"Will you be joining us? " Alfred asked. England had been observing in the background for so long that he was rather surprised when he was finally addressed.

"Yes, I think it's best I clear the air."

"I'm sorry if she made you uncomfortable. She's capable but overly ambitious and headstrong. The moment she saw you enter she sensed she was losing and decided to lash out at you," Alfred apologized, unable to hide his a smile despite her insolent behavior.

"Was she? You seem taken by her words," Arthur said, wanting a better idea where they stood. If she did win, he wanted to be well out of the vicinity before her actions negatively impacted him.

"How could you tell?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"I couldn't at first, but you've dropped several hints that her ideas appeal to you more than you led on." He shrugged, acting nonchalant despite the fact he couldn't look Arthur in the eye right now.

"I admit I've had similar thoughts before. "

"Have you? Should I be worried?" England said in a casual tone, despite his deeply rooted misgivings. Eliminating one uprising didn't mean more wouldn't follow, especially, if it were government sanctioned.

"No, they've all but vanished since the rebellion was squashed, but when she spoke-"

"It's as if she rekindled the fire."

"Yes." All the warning signs were present of a struggling nation, deeply dived and torn about its identity and principals. There was no way to know for sure if either sides sentiments were strong enough to produce a belated civil war. He should go, and yet, he was reluctant to leave this America alone until he found his way. He was stuck, and he could only pray the election would go well and an entirely new personally wouldn't steadily overtake his old one.

"Then, the thoughts haven't truly gone away."

"Arthur, I would never hurt you." So, he did understand Arthur's fears. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or worried that this was the first thing that came to Alfred's mind when the word rebellion came up.

"I can't tell you what to do, but I do know you're torn, and you don't disagree with either side, not really. You'll have a better idea of where you stand once your new government is fully established."

"Maybe, I am rushing things too much. I feel sick," Alfred said, returning to his desk to recover. Arthur patted him on the shoulder lightly, seeing a chance to delay a trip that more and more seemed to make America border line obsessive.

"We can postpone the trip to India if you are not feeling well." As expected, Alfred didn't like that idea at all, and immediately left his chair with a grin on his face in an attempt to look healthier than he was probably feeling.

"No, that won't be necessary. There is still plenty of time to get ready. This trip has been a long time coming. India and I have a lot to discuss," He said, his true motives very apparent. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"You mean, India and I have much to discuss."

"That's what I said." He answered absently. England wondered if America realized he'd made a mistake. He decided that he'd rather know up front what he was getting into.

"Are there things you are not telling me?"

"There are many things I don't tell you because they are things you don't need to know. I will coach you through the financial discussions. I will have a word with India, and we can move on to the next crisis," he joked, attempting to lightened the mood. He failed.

"Will these discussions put us in danger?" Arthur said, wanting a better idea of what he should look out for while he was there.

"No, India is a perfectly civil host. Be careful with your tongue, and there shouldn't be any problems," America said. There was no way to tell if there truly was more to it than that. For now, Arthur decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Despite the danger, he hadn't been led astray yet.

"I suppose we should join them," England said, changing the subject. His distaste for the idea must have been obvious.

"She doesn't know who you really are. Don't take it personally."

"I don't. I worry about my safety." Alfred frowned, clearly tired of the subject.

"This election won't turn me into a whole other person," he said, before entering the kitchen to entertain his guests;

"I'm not so sure," Arthur whispered, before entering himself. He could only hope my other half was having better luck in his world with his reality check.

* * *

><p>As Alfred counted the cracks on the ceiling for the millionth time today, he could only rue the day he decided not to sleep in and go to a meeting for once. He'd skipped them so many times before. Why go on a day when the odds of getting kidnaped were abnormally high? He guessed only the universe knew for sure. Alfred hated the universe. It had been astronomically unkind to him lately. Once again, he was alone with Britain, and there was no one left to act as a buffer. Worse than that, there was nothing to distract either of them. They didn't have any leads.<p>

"Maybe, my reward was supposed to be the sweet release of death," Arthur said, staring out the window while looking all too tempted to jump out of it.

"Don't say that. I'm sure we're just missing something super obvious." Just like that game that would kill you if you ran at the princess instead of walked, there had to be some loophole that was preventing things from moving along. Alfred just needed some clue as to what to do next and that would require some experimentation.

"We need to go out," Alfred announced, getting up abruptly.

"I refuse to leave the flat with you, without good reason," Arthur said, ignoring him. Apparently, the window was much more interesting.

"I need time to think," Alfred said which was somewhat true. He did think better while out and about, but really, Alfred was getting restless. He'd spent way too much of the last week here, fighting for his right to be himself and not the person Britain had thought he was. The last few days had done a lot to build up trust, but even now that they had developed an understanding, there was an underlying tension that was making it difficult to breath. Alfred wanted out.

"Think inside," Arthur said, unusually still if characteristically dismissive. Sigh, Arthur wanted to stay in, and if things continued the way they had, they would because Arthur was stronger, used to getting his way, and oh, just a little traumatized. Alfred wasn't having any of it today. Clearly, his counterpart wanted him to take the lead in Arthur's rehabilitation . He couldn't keep treating him like he was made of glass.

"Arthur, you need this. We're going," Alfred said, grabbing hold of his hand against his better judgement. He could easily throw him out the window from this angle. Keeping a tight hold on him, now that he had initiated contact, Arthur refused to look at him and simply responded.

"No." Slightly anxious, Alfred took a deep breath and tried again. He wanted to help him, not hurt him. That would require a level a patience Alfred wasn't used to expressing.

"Hey, listening to me has gotten us this far, right? Why don't you trust me for once?" he asked. Britain seemed to genuinely consider his reasoning before nodding. Good, now, all he had to do was get him out the door. Alfred pulled him up, and he cooperated. No struggle. No harsh words. Easy peasy. Okay, so, his earlier paranoia was probably unfounded. After all, this wasn't the first time they had gone outside. It would probably get easier as time went on, or at least, Alfred hoped so. Until, England said something that let him know he'd made a terrible mistake.

"Because, I'm not ten years old," Arthur said, smashing him against the fireplace. He laughed as if he had pulled a simple April fool's prank instead of potentially broken Alfred's jaw and arm. Words could not describe his utter hatred for this man right now. Forget it. Some people don't recover. Some people don't get saved.

"Look, I don't have to be here. I'm not your babysitter, and I refuse to relive a toxic relationship with a tyrant. So, if you want to spend the rest of your life inside this living room, go right ahead," he hissed, finally bolting like he should have done the minute he found out who this person really was.

"Fine, abandon me, just like Scotland," Arthur said, attempting to guilt trip him. Hell no.

"Hey, if Scotland abandoned anybody, it was me," he shouted, realizing just how bitter he was about that a second after he said it. Alfred didn't have the best luck with family.

"Because I'm so terrible," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. Alfred narrowed his.

"Yes, you threw me into a fireplace. The only reason you're still breathing is because it wasn't lit," Alfred said. Not expecting such a quick and thorough response, Arthur instinctively said the fist thing that came to mind.

"Get out of my sight." In any other situation, Alfred would have thought twice about what he'd done to get that kind of acidic rejection, but clearly, Britain was overestimating how much America cared for him at this point. It wasn't a whole lot.

"Gladly," Alfred said, opening the door to sweet sweet freedom which meant heading straight home to the red white and blue. Eh, he might stop by Scotland to tepee Colin's house first. The door was magically shut because of course it was.

"Where do you think you're going?" Arthur asked, knowing perfectly well where this conversation was headed. Alfred grit his teeth and pulled on the doorknob as hard as he could. It wouldn't budge. He hated magic.

"Home," Alfred said, turning the door with all his might. Something had to give.

"No," Arthur said, snapping his fingers. Alfred immediately lost his grip on the knob, and it became far too slippery to hold. He couldn't even pretend to pry it open now and any other attempts of escape would likely meet similar results. Alfred let himself fall to the floor and lean against the door.

"Real mature, Arthur, you asked me to leave, not five seconds ago," he grumbled, cooling off a bit. It's not like he could go anywhere, or maybe, it was the magic kicking in. He really didn't know anymore.

"I didn't meant it. You just irritate me,"Arthur said honestly. Did he really just say that? Alfred laughed, in a slowly going insane sort of way.

"The feeling's mutual, but I guess it'd be irresponsible to leave you in a world you don't understand or whatever. I can stay a little while longer," Alfred said, backing off. He could probably solve this in a week or two. Any longer and he'd jump out the window himself.

"What will happen if I can't go home?" Arthur said, sitting down to join him while showing some actual vulnerability today in the way his voice broke by the end of the question. Alfred should be weary of it, but he couldn't bring himself to suspect him.

"I will fund a machine that travels between dimensions and gets you home. Don't trap yourself in a box of despair, guy. I'll be here for you, just maybe not right here all the time," Alfred said, punching him on the shoulder lightly.

"That's actually very sweet, but I doubt technology could catch up at a rate either of us would find reasonable," Arthur said, sighing. Alfred smiled in spite of everything. At the end of the day, all either of them wanted was to go home.

"I guess not, but if it makes you feel better, I'm sure England's missing home just as much as you are and who knows maybe he's figuring out a way to get back right now," Alfred said, feeling optimistic despite the fact he couldn't feel half his face.

"I sincerely doubt that," Arthur scoffed, substituting coffee for alcohol. Huh, he must have found England's secret stash that he claimed not to have. Having that much caffeine in his system probably wasn't good, but Alfred wasn't in the mood to fight about it. At least, not until, he could feel something on the left side of his body.

"How come?" America asked, slightly curious. He had assumed that Britain had lost all communication with his world based on his last freak out with the portal.

"I haven't sensed any dimensional magic coming from my world since one was attempted at Alfred's residence and suddenly stopped. Either, he is no position to perform magic anymore or he doesn't want to come back, " Arthur said, assuming the latter while Alfred definitely assumed the former. Nothing stopped the annoying Brit from doing magic, not even a thousand Russia summonings. (He might be exaggerating a bit.)

"Damn, that's super worrying. We need to fail faster," Alfred said, getting up, grabbing hold of his hand, and pulling him up. His surprise attack worked, and Britain was forced to get up. Unfortunately, he didn't get much further than that.

"Fail what? Alfred, what are you doing?" Now that he was standing, America couldn't make him budge.

"Dragging you outside, duh," Alfred said, pulling his hand in vain. Arthur rolled his eyes and shoved him to the ground when he yanked his arm one too many times.

"I have the power of many nations. You aren't dragging me outside by force." Alfred eyes widened as it dawned on him why Arthur's strength greatly outmatched his. He wasn't pushing against one country but several, granted his title should have given him a clue, but . . .meh, whatever, he was going to play it cool. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, slightly embarrassed that this was the limit of his current planning abilities.

"It was worth a shot, but if you really want to stay inside and mope all day, it's your choice man," he huffed, giving up on him. Arthur's didn't like being given up on.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked, interest somewhat peaked.

"Depends, what's going to make you happy?" Alfred asked casually. He didn't want to get slammed against the fireplace again.

"I prefer indoor activities," Arthur said, smirking triumphantly. He snapped his fingers and put a deck of cards on the table. Alfred glared at the deck suspiciously, a simple enough activity. Alfred got up and sat down on the couch, opening the fresh pack of cards. Arthur joined him.

"Ugh, fine, I'll support your shut in ways, but we have to do something fun," Alfred said, performing a few simply card cutting tricks, courtesy of his time spent in Vegas. Arthur clapped, mildly impressed. Alfred hated that he felt happy about it.

"Fun? What is this word you call Fun?" Arthur asked sarcastically.

"Don't you patronize me," Alfred said flatly. He was in no mood to indulge him.

"I frankly would rather we focus on getting me out of here," Britain said, sounding bored. Eye twitch, it's not like he had a psychic link to his double. America had no idea how to fix this, and he desperately needed time to quiet his inner rage, considering what had happened in the last few minutes.

"We aren't going to accomplish that if we're angry and frustrated and looking at it from the same angle, over and over again," Alfred said. He needed to take the pressure off before mulling the problem over again. The other Alfred was practically a foreign entity to him.

"Fair enough, what do you and England normally do for fun?" Arthur said as Alfred passed out the cards. They were playing poker right now. He could have easily rigged the game but chose not to. America wanted to distract him more than anything.

"We argue, we drink, and don't talk to each other until the next bi-monthly meeting forces us together," Alfred said, being brutally honest. The time he was spending with Britain would soon eclipse the amount of time he'd cumulatively spent with England in the last six months.

"That would make for a lovely afternoon if you hadn't destroyed the alcohol supply," Arthur said, still fairly bitter about the incident.

"If you'd leave the house, we could get more," Alfred said as annoyed as Arthur was bitter.

"Maybe later," Britain said with a shrug. America could translate well enough. They wouldn't be getting drunk anytime soon.

"How exactly has no one in your universe noticed you're afraid of daylight?" Alfred asked mockingly. Arthur wasn't ruffled.

"One learns to cope with the mundane necessities of the world and hide what society deems undesirable and defective, " he answered, raising his bet to two cookies. Alfred matched the bet. Truthfully, he would have been more invested if they were playing with anything remotely valuable. At the moment, it was literally child's play.

"So, basically, you pretended not to care and relied on trustworthy people to hide your secret for you for the sake of your vast empire," Alfred said, showing his hand, two kings.

"How did you guess?" he asked, surprised. He laid down an ace and a king, taking the four bits of sugar without much celebration.

"Eh, I may have known a guy who pulled a similar con. Anyway, you have to know by now that this place is reasonably safe," Alfred said, pushing the issue more while he handed out cards for the next round. He needed to get over this, not matter how many times he was slammed into the fireplace.

"Reasonably?" Arthur said, giving him a knowing look.

"With my luck, someone will try to mug us the minute we go outside and prove me wrong," Alfred grumbled, before checking his hand. Bleh, terrible hand, he wasn't even going to bother bluffing. Once again, Arthur was left with a another pile of cookies he wasn't going to eat.

"And, you expect me to trust your judgement, why? " he asked.

"Look if this drags on for months, you're going to have to interact with the outside world, or the outside world is going to come and interact with you. Eventually, your government is going to notice something off about you," Alfred said, all but admitting that he didn't think that problem would be resolved anytime soon. He'd rather Arthur get accustomed to his new living arrangement before people started asking questions. Britain had a tendency to panic when a situation overwhelmed him. America could already think of ten scenarios which would end very badly if the pattern continued.

"Then, don't let this drag on for months. Tell me, why do you think I'm still here? If you were in his position, what would you want from me?" he asked. Alfred felt uncomfortable answering. They weren't the same person, but he could guess all to well.

"You promise not to get mad at him?" Alfred folded again without checking his hand, steadily losing interest in the game. Arthur frowned.

"It's far too late for that."

"Will you at least promise to hear him out when you make it back to my personal dystopia?" he asked, doing his best not to inherently doom his other self when Britain returned to his world. Granted, his double had made his choice when he trapped Britain here, but he sympathized enough to try to buy him some time before the inevitable confrontation.

"If this is what I have to do to get you to cooperate, then, sure, I will let him explain himself before he pays for his insolence," Arthur said, cracking his knuckles. The cards were abandoned in favor of television. It was some comedic game show.

"Yeesh, I wonder why he isn't in a hurry to bring you back home," Alfred snapped.

"Of course, he isn't bringing me back home. He's probably grooming your Arthur to be my replacement as we speak," he said, deadly serious. America had guessed as much earlier that Britain believed this, but he found himself defensive. Why hadn't the other Alfred said anything about England in his communications, unless Arthur was being unusually cooperative?

"Arthur would never go for that." Alfred said stubbornly. The old man was set in his ways. He'd never want to stay in a world that . . . had everything he wanted.

"And, yet, he's made no move to escape," Britain said, daring him to disagree. Alfred crossed his arms and focused intensely at the chattering men on screen.

"He could be captured."

"Or is that simply what you want to believe?" he asked. America chose not to dignify that with a response.

"I've had some time to think what the other conditions could be. You've been getting rewarded for cooperating with me. Logic dictates; the rest of the conditions are also things you would normally never do, but Alfred might find desirable for you to emulate," Alfred said.

"That actually makes a fair amount of sense," Arthur said, once again surprised by his problem solving skills.

"As far as America's motivation, we've already solved that," Alfred said.

"We have?" Arthur asked, clearly having tuned out Alfred the day before yesterday in favor of hanging out with Scotland.

What the other Alfred wants isn't to see you eliminated, it's time," Alfred reiterated anyway. They hadn't really nailed down the specifics when he'd asked about him. Arthur might be more helpful today without his long lost brother's double around.

"Yes, but time for what exactly? Who knows what I'll come back to if this goes on much longer," Arthur said. His irritation masking his obvious fear of the unknown. This probably wasn't the first time this thought had crossed his mind.

"A democratically run nation?" Alfred answered cheekily.

"Don't even joke about that, he wouldn't be ready for such a thing," Arthur said, sounding surprisingly worried.

"Why not?" Alfred asked. His revolution had been a piece of cake, sort of. In the grand scheme of things, despite Canada's constant showing off about asking nicely, his revolution had been relatively bloodless compared to others. With Britain absent, he could see the transition going very smoothly for his other half.

"Have most of your universe's revolutions been bloodless?" Britain asked.

"No, but-" This revolution could be.

"Neither have ours," Britain said, cutting him off.

"But if you helped him along instead of pushed him aside, maybe, you two could usher in a perfectly stable and progressive nation to a world that I assume needs that kind of perspective as much as ours," Alfred said, suggesting something that he tried not to think about too much for the sake of his sanity and general self esteem. Technically, despite Great Britain's influence, Canada and Australia hadn't exactly turned out terrible.

"Or, a bunch of unsavory nations will swallow him up and destroy what I spent centuries building," Arthur said, definitely against the idea, for now. Alfred was good at playing devil's advocate.

"So, you're saying Alfred had no involvement whatsoever building his own nation?" he asked.

"I never said that," Arthur said, visibly angered by the accusation. Good.

"Has he never had to defend himself or others in combat?" America asked, continuing to bombard him with questions in hopes of defeating him with superior logic.

"As part of a fairly large empire, I have asked for his participation in wars that effects us all as a whole, but he's never had to defend his borders from a large outside force," Arthur said, getting nervous. Hmm, he wouldn't have guessed that, considering the time difference, not to different from how he started out.

"Are you saying that his knowledge of combat and infrastructure goes away as soon as you give him the ability to run things on his own?" Alfred asked, giving him a devastating smile. He had definitely won this argument already.

"No but-" It was his turn to cut him off.

"Would you let your ally that you raised since he was this tall fall into enemy hands ?" he asked, gesturing the size he imagined he was at the time. (He was probably shorter.) Arthur sputtered, suddenly very flustered.

"Of course not," he shouted. America shoved a cookie into his mouth. Revenge is delicious.

"Then, what's the problem?" He spit out the cookie.

"I'll sleep on it," Arthur said, both aware he'd been had and very self conscious about how his new relationship with the America in his world should proceed. He wasn't quite convinced, but America had given him something to think about and that was good enough in his book.

"We're getting off track. Name three things Alfred has always wanted from you," Alfred asked simply. He needed to make a psychiatric profile of his current foe.

"Attention, approval, and privacy," Arthur listed fairly easily.

With that in mind, Alfred came up with a very simple idea.

"Let's send him a letter, letting him know you understand why he did what he did. Maybe, he'll offer us a clue," Alfred suggested.

"Now, you're just being ridiculous," Arthur muttered, very put off by the idea. He was still very hurt Alfred would even put him in this situation in the first place. He'd have to swallow his pride if they were going to get anywhere.

"Don't think about what he's done to you. Pretend, you've been a long vacation. How would you start? " he asked.

"Dear Alfred, if you want to live, I suggest that everything be just as I left it before I was rudely tossed into this joke of a universe, " Arthur said. Yeah, he wasn't writing that.

"Dear Alfred, I hope you are well and enjoying having the place to yourself."

"He wouldn't be by himself. I'm sure some part of the extended family if bothering him," Arthur interjected.

"If you were a little less hostile, I wouldn't have to make stuff up. Let's see. I reconnected with my long lost lover, Francis. We wed on the 'morrow," Alfred said, fully expecting to be censored. Arthur snatched the paper.

"Give me that, you are terrible at writing letters," he said, adding fire to the fireplace with a snap of his fingers. He chucked Alfred's letter in the fire and began writing his own version on another piece of paper.

"Dear Alfred, I have received your previous letter. While I was shocked by its contents, I have found ways to cope. While the Alfred of this universe and I had a rocky start, he has been very helpful in helping me see what I couldn't see on my own," Arthur said aloud.

"Wow, that's super nice of you to say," Alfred said, very pleased by the letter so far. If the other America was going to cooperate, he had to feel that Britain was no longer a scary obstacle in his way.

"Don't let it go to your head. This isn't for your benefit. He has believe everything is going splendidly if he's going to give me anything other than a cryptic response." So, he was equally aware of what was at stake. Strangely, it made him feel worse for his other self, getting tricked by a family member wasn't fun, and the fact he was helping didn't help his conscience much. Hopefully, he was savvy enough not to give too much away, too soon.

"Then, by all means, tell him how awesome I am," Alfred said jokingly.

"Alfred wants you to know how awesome he is," Arthur said. He immediately scrambled for the paper. Alfred wanted to make a better first impression than that. Britain held his hands in place.

"Relax, I would never write that. It doesn't even make sense with what I started with. No need to get embarrassed," he said, reminding him of how easily his instincts overtook his common sense sometimes.

"Oh right."

Britain spent a good deal of time, pondering what to write before painstakingly crafting the remaining two thirds of the letter.

"I've wronged you and taken you for granted. You've done so much for me, and I've repaid your loyalty with contempt for your dignity. I hope you can forgive me. I've only begun to understand upon reflection how much my presence has utterly decimated your potential, " Arthur read aloud, chocking up a bit. He really didn't know what to say to that.

"That's um good," he stated dumbly. Arthur nodded barely registering his feeble response. Wiping tears from his eyes, he continued on.

"I've met three of your conditions but do not expect to meet any others. I'm afraid I might not be capable of it. How can I possibly connect with someone who represents everything you could be: strong, happy, free, when I've completely failed you. If you truly wish for me to return, please, give me some small clue of what I must do to earn your trust once again.

Sincerely, Arthur, " he finished, more than a little glum.

"It's perfect. He has to respond to this," Alfred said, confident the honesty of the letter would lower America's guard. He was still a little teary eyed.

"Perhaps," Arthur murmured, sealing the letter in one of England's fancy butterscotch scented envelopes before sending it away in a magical blitz of green fire.

A few seconds later, another envelope appeared , similar to the one Alfred received a few days earlier. Arthur opened it, slowly with a very apparent sense of dread. He stared at the paper in disbelief and let it slip through his fingers.

"You have got to be kidding me," Arthur said, slamming his forehead on the desk. Alfred peeked over his shoulder and read the letter's brief contents.

"Be happy."


End file.
